


Strange World

by Salvachester



Series: Hunter and the Beast [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Homesickness, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, Parallel Universes, Sexually Frustrated Dean, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvachester/pseuds/Salvachester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being pulled to another plane of existence, Dean gets help from an unlikely ally: a vampire, who will try to send him back home. How long can Dean hold on to logic before letting desire take over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is based off a [roleplay thread](http://scarlettslaypire.tumblr.com/tagged/visitor%20from%20a%20strange%20land/chrono/) between [me](http://scarlettslaypire.tumblr.com/) and [thewanderingmerc](http://thewanderingmerc.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Brief sexual content in ch 8, full on smut on 10 and onwards.
> 
> I do not own the rights for Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel the Series.

Dean was chasing on a lead that could possibly hint him on Abaddon's whereabouts; it was a vague lead that most likely would turn out to be a dead end, but he had to try anyways. Upon stopping at a Gas-N-Sip in the middle of nowhere to fill up the Impala, he noticed electricity crackling just around the corner of the joint. Unusual, since it was the middle of the day and no lights were turned on anywhere, except for the store itself.

He drove a few more feet to get a closer look, then he parked the car and decided to take a look, grabbing Ruby's knife in case it was demonic activity. Looking around, he noticed there was nobody nearby, and Dean could have sworn that he was seeing everything behind that particular spot beginning to distort. "The hell?" He muttered to himself.

Knife gripped tight behind his back, he slowly walked to the center of the unusual activity, and was instantly hit with a blast of white light, then got sucked right into it. And then everything went black.

Dean felt the back of his head slightly throbbing, he had hit the pavement pretty hard on his fall, and when he reached out to rub the tiny bump just as he was opening his eyes, he instantly forgot about the pain when he noticed he was no longer in the middle of nowhere, nor was it noon. In one swift motion, he got to his feet and started to frantically turn around, trying to get his bearings. By the height of the buildings he was seeing, he realized he was in a big city. A mix of confusion, shock and horror washed through him.

"What the _fuck_?" He said to himself, still scanning the filthy alley he was standing in, and it took him a good ten more seconds to notice his beloved Impala was nowhere in sight. "Baby, no!" He whispered, feeling a pang of pain in his chest.

He closed his eyes, hoping he was hallucinating or something, but when he opened them again, he was still in that damn filthy alley. For a moment, Dean thought that maybe some angel had zapped him somewhere for some reason, but then he remembered that all the angels lost their wings when they fell, so having been zapped by one was out of the table. He put the knife back in the inner pocket, and instantly retrieved his phone from his jacket, intending to call Sam, but before he managed to punch in his brother's speed dial, a 'no service' was flashing on the screen.

"Oh come on!" He shouted in utter frustration, then put the phone away. He would have to find a pay phone and call Sammy from there, and see if his brother could figure out what the fuck was going on. Dean thought things couldn't possibly get any weirder. He was wrong.

He started to walk, trying to see if he could spot a phone booth, but before getting so far, he noticed something running towards him, and instantly Dean noticed that whatever it was, it was certainly _not_ human, nor anything he's ever seen before.

"What the fuck is that?" He breathed as he pulled Ruby's knife out again, and stood ready for a confrontation.

* * *

Scarlett was running as fast as she could, forcing her legs to go faster and faster. She had temporarily lost track of the Polgara before trailing it again, and so she had lost precious time; the thing would be dead now had she not taken a wrong turn, but this was not the time to dwell on that, she needed to stay focused and sharp.

_Don't turn left, asshole, don't turn fucking left_ , she repeated in her mind. She was hoping the demon would make a right turn and end up in an empty area, as opposed to a left and ending up in a crowded zone. She was catching up and that only made her push herself harder, then the Polgara made a right turn.

"Perfect!" She muttered, grinning to herself and gripping her blade harder. Polgaras were nasty fuckers, with thick skins. A simple dagger wouldn't do much damage, but a short sword would suffice. She was gaining on it steadily, -premature sense of victory getting the best of her- when she noticed that the demon was running straight towards some mook standing in the middle of the alley, and gawking at the thing in a clear fight stance. She snarled inwardly. _Right, like the poor idiot has a chance_ , she thought. Maybe he'll realize and move at the last second.

He didn't. "Get out of the way, you moron!" Scarlett yelled before drawing another ounce of strength and tackling the Polgara just as it was about to run the guy over. Her sword flew somewhere out of sight -no time to search for it- so she started pounding and punching mercilessly at the Polgara with all her might, carefully avoiding those fucking annoying and inconvenient wooden pokers protruding from its wrists, trying to keep them as far away as possible from her heart. The demon fought back, throwing equally powerful kicks, and when Scarlett saw the window of opportunity, she snapped its left poker out of its arm. One down, one to go.

With all the fuss, she almost completely forgot that the guy was still standing there, watching the whole show. She needed to keep focused on the fight, no time to scold some dude who probably had zero common sense, considering that he didn't flee like a normal person would.

* * *

Dean saw the monster running in his general direction, unsure if it was coincidence, or if it was actually going to attack him, so he readied for a fight, but before he could form any thought on how to ride the fight -if it came to it-, he heard a female voice shouting at him to get out of the way, and then he spotted her running like the devil after the monster. Long, red hair flying behind her when she sprinted and tackled the thing.

Dean was sure as hell confused as fuck, how was it even possible for anyone, let alone a petite chick like that, to make that run and tackle a massive beast of that size? He chalked it up to an adrenaline rush the size of Texas. Either way, he was impressed, or rather worried, was she trying to get herself killed or something? He was a second away from running in to help her, when he saw the girl pounding at the thing non stop, like she was hitting on a punching bag. Relentlessly and without tiring, and she was taking the kicks from the monster like it was no big deal.

 _What the hell is going on here?_ He thought again. He had to admit, watching the redhead beat up the creature like that was _hot_. And definitely she was hot. Dean watched her snap some twig-like thing from its arm -What the fuck was that anyways? - when he noticed the monster stabbing her arm with the remaining poker; she yelled in pain -or so Dean thought-, and before he could give one step to go help, she managed to drop the thing on its stomach, then stomped hard on its back, knelt on the beast and snapped its neck forcefully.

"That was awesome!" Dean yelled, full of shock and excitement, "how the hell did you do that, sweetheart?"

He was waiting for a reply when the chick turned around and in three long strides she was almost face to face to him, and Dean's excitement left him immediately. She no longer had pretty features, hell, she no longer had human features. Prominent and bumpy forehead, yellow eyes, much like predators', and Dean was sure those were fangs.

"Are you brain dead, you idiot?" She snarled at him, fangs flashing sharp, "when someone tells you to get out of their way, you fucking get _out_ of their way. Besides, dark stinky alleys like this one are not safe place to wander around for too long. So beat it before something else makes you their meal." Scarlett realized, judging by his shock and horror expression, that she was still in game face, so she morphed out.

Dean stood frozen for a second, considering what to do next, so he decided to ask some questions, hoping it would distract the redhead for just a second, and attempt to stab her with Ruby's knife, or empty a clip on her, since he realized he didn't lose his gun when he fell to the ground. Shame, she was really hot, especially now that she reverted to her human visage and had a pair of light green eyes that, under other circumstances, would have had him flirting his way into her pants and her cleavage, which he was trying so hard to not directly look at.

But he had no idea what she was and hell if he was gonna leave it to chance. He put his best curious look and asked, pointing at the dead creature far behind the chick, "what the hell was that, anyways?" And the moment she slightly turned her head to look at the corpse, Dean took a swing, tying to plunge the knife in her chest, and to his utter dismay, not only she intercepted it effortlessly _and_ knocked it from his grasp, but also twisted him around and pushed him forcefully against the wall. Dean groaned when he felt the cold wall hit against his cheek.

"You better let me go," he threatened in a low tone. That made her give him a faint push against the wall.

"Wow, you're a piece of work, I save your sorry ass from a Polgara, and not only you try to off me, but also threaten me?" She said the words with a snarl, her lips almost to his ear, and for a moment, Dean felt mixed emotions about the whole situation.

Dean tried to talk, but she went on, she had a really hard grip on his arm pressed on his own back, "you know, I wasn't expecting a 'thank you', I don't care for 'thank yous', but double crossing _really_ pisses me off." Scarlett was about to let this fucker go, when she noticed the blade he had dropped, something on it caught her attention, and tilting her head, she could see the scribbling and the pentagram. "What the hell?" She asked, mostly to herself.

She scoffed, "I should have known… You people don't give up, do you?" She said, not really asking, because she was sure this guy wouldn't give an answer.

Dean didn't think he couldn't be even more confused, he tried freeing himself but it was futile. Whatever she was, she was _very_ strong. "Us people? What the fuck are you going on about?" He asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. This was ridiculous, he had obviously landed in the middle of something he had no clue about, and on top of it, he was being accused of something, that of course he didn't know either.

She scoffed again, “right, you don’t know. And I’m the tooth fairy, then.” Dean chuckled at that, “we’ll, you certainly have some teeth issues, sweetheart.” He almost regretted cracking that one considering his current situation, then grunted when she gripped his arm tighter. He got serious, “what the hell are you, anyways?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to believe that bullshit? Guy packing some nasty ritualistic knife, with a fucking pentagram of all possible symbols, obviously you’re tied to either some nasty, nasty satanic cult, or playing lackey for Wolfram & Hart, or whatever name you guys picked to fly under the radar nowadays. Or maybe you’re just some run-of-the mill Joe that came by it by accident and has no fucking clue in what sort of shit you got yourself into.” Her tone was somewhere between sarcastic and threatening. “So, which is it, champ?”

Dean huffed in exasperation, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? I don’t even know where the fuck I am, or how I even got here. I’m having a hell of a shitty day, the least I need is some… Whatever the fuck you are, drilling me for information that I honestly have no idea about, when you obviously got the _wrong_ guy. And the knife, not satanic at all. It’s the only weapon to kill a demon.” At this point, Dean was tired, sore and wishing he could just figure out what was going on.

“Don’t make any sudden move, or I’ll knock you out,” Scarlett said while releasing Dean’s arm and quickly picking up the knife, and her own short sword, which was lying nearby, she hid it inside her jacket. She turned the knife over in her hands, examining it. Something the guy had said didn't sound right. Dean stood there watching warily, he wanted to either pull his gun, or make a run for it, but he suspected he wouldn't get too far, so he merely glanced at her, “can I get my knife back?”

“Not just yet,” she kept twirling the knife in her hand, eyeing him up and down, squinting her eyes, “you’re clearly human, that much I can tell. You don’t exactly strike me as evil, but I've been wrong before, and sure as hell I’m not taking chances, so I’ll hold on to this for now,” she said, presenting the knife and putting it in the inner pocket of her jacket.

Dean rolled his eyes, mostly out of despair than annoyance. He didn't want to lose that knife, it was too important. “At least tell me where the fuck I am, Red,” he asked instead.

She gave him an incredulous look, “Detroit. Wait, you’re in Motor City and you didn't even know? How is that even possible?” Definitely something was off, she was sure of that.

“I can’t exactly explain it, okay? I don’t even fucking know how, so please give me my knife back so I can go and figure out what’s going on?” Dean’s voice sounded more pleading that he had intended to, but at this point he didn't fucking care. He just wanted this over, he wanted to wake up in his bed in the bunker, and know that Baby was safe in the garage.

“Did you hit your head or something?” She asked. For all she knew, the guy may have a concussion, hell, maybe he could even have short term memory loss.

Dean flared his nostrils, “yes, of course I hit my head, but still it doesn't explain my acid trip of hell down the rabbit hole, and the flash of bright light, from the middle of Indiana in broad daylight to nighttime in Detroit.”

Now _that_ piqued Scarlett’s interest, “wait, you teleported here? How?” Dean merely shook his head.

“All I know is that I want to get home, I’m trying to call my brother but my cell has no signal, which shouldn't happen if we are in Detroit like you say.” He wasn't sure he should be explaining the situation, especially to a woman that clearly wasn't human. And the fact that she was prying for information was unsettling. “What do you care anyways?” He asked bluntly. He started walking, “where’s a damn payphone?” He muttered to himself. She followed, catching up with him. She wasn't going to stop him.

“If what you say it’s true, then you obviously need help.” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“No offense, sweetheart, but I know better than to accept help from some…" Dean paused for a moment, trying to find the right word, he wanted to use the word monster, but he wasn't as stupid as to do it, it would be suicide. He continued, “Seriously, what the fuck are you?”

She raised her eyebrow, shooting an incredulous glance at him, “for a guy that goes around bragging about a demon-killing-knife, you sure as hell don't know squat about demonology.”

Dean frowned. “Demonology?” He mouthed to himself, but she caught him.

“Yes, the study of all the demon species in the world,” she explained. Dean started laughing, and Scarlett glanced at him. “And that’s funny because…?” She asked.

“Come on! Really? There’s a study on those smoking son of bitches? A little overkill if you ask me,” he said with a smirk.

She didn't exactly understand what he meant by that, but she shrugged it off, “it studies all species of demons. And I insist, for someone that brags about knowing about them, you surely as hell don’t know crap,” she mirrored his smirk. Dean shot her a look, clearly not happy about her accusation, ready to retort, but she interrupted the reply he didn't get to properly phrase, “or else you would have known right away that I’m a vampire.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stood frozen once more, not sure if it was because she said she was a vampire, or the fact that she didn’t look like a vampire at all. At least, not the kind of vampires _he_ knew. With all the talking, he didn't realize they've walked all the way to an avenue, he looked around until he spotted a phone booth. “I need to call Sam,” he said picking up his pace. Scarlett followed. No need to run, she knew the guy wanted his knife back, he wasn’t going to try to run away without it.

Dean dialed the numbers, and when the line connected he didn't wait for the greeting. “Sam! Sammy! It’s me, De-." The woman at the other end told him he had the wrong number, and then she hung up. “What?” He whispered, getting worried. He insisted two more times before the same woman got angry and told him to stop bothering her. He tried all others of Sam’s numbers. Same drill, all different people. Same with Cas’ cell, and Kevin's. He even tried calling Sheriff Mills. Nada. It was like everyone he knew had vanished off the planet. He ran a heavy hand over his brow. “This isn't happening. What is happening?” His stare turned to the vampire. She shook her head, though she had a theory or two, but wasn't gonna spill them until she was sure.

“Try calling your own cell?” Scarlett suggested. Dean threw an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look at her. “Doesn't hurt to try. You did say your phone had no service.”

She was right, he realized. Dean’s face went almost white when someone else picked up his phone, he didn’t even talk, he simply hung up. “I need a drink,” he muttered staring blankly at the dialing pad of the phone booth. He looked up at her, “do you know something?” He asked suspiciously.

She shook her head, “nope, but I do have some theories. You’re not gonna like them, though.”

Dean crossed his arms, “uh huh. I’m still trying to wrap around my head on why a vampire is trying to help me. Vampires feed on people, they don’t help them.” Well, he had known two that didn’t like killing people, but that was super rare. He was still hella confused about she saying she was a vamp. He had seen her and she didn’t look like a vampire at all. New breed of vampire? His head was beginning to hurt from all the heavy thinking, and according to a digital clock on a building, it was only 9:10pm.

“Yes, vampires feed on people, and kill them, just like any other nasty out there,” she was saying, and Dean tensed, he didn’t like the words. “But there’s always an exception to the rule, special cases,” she continued. She noticed his body language, how he was slowly shifting into a subtle defensive stance. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna bite you, or kill you. Like I said, I’m trying to help you, like I did back in that alley before you went all Rambo with that cryptic knife.”

“Yeah, why did you even help me back there?” He asked, thrusting his chin up a bit.

She made a face, throwing her arms out and around, “because it’s what I do. Someone has too.”

Dean certainly had many questions, and of course he needed to know what her theories were. But right now, he was dying for a drink. And maybe some food. Yes, definitely some food. “Know any place where I can get decent cheeseburgers?”

“Yeah, right this way,” Scarlett started walking at a brisk pace, trying to figure out how to help this guy. Dean followed, quickly catching up with her. “So… What’s your name?” He asked, checking out her ass. He made a silent whistle that went unnoticed by her. _Such a waste_ , he thought, _how does a hot chick like this ends up a vamp? So unfair._

“Scarlett,” she replied absently, clearly still thinking about theories, possible solutions and what not.

“I'm Dean. Dean Winchester,” he said before she asked. She gave him a nod, and upon reaching a diner, she pushed the door open with such force that allowed Dean to fully walk in after her before it shut. A woman behind the counter turned around, startled by the sound of the door closing, her features softened as soon as she spotted the redhead.

“Hey, hunny! Haven't seen you in over a week, I was beginning to think you ditched my joint. Lotta work, eh?” She said as she turned around the counter. Dean spotted a name tag that read 'Doris'. She must have been in her early fifties, he guessed, and to his shock, she gave Scarlett a tight hug.

“How dare you say that? I'll ditch your joint when I'm dead, but yes, lot of stuff going on,” the vampire replied with a smile. After their embrace was over, Scarlett noticed Dean's confused expression, and her smile vanished instantly. “What?” She asked coldly; he merely shook his head and uttered a defensive 'nada'. She lead the way to a table that was far from the sector that had a couple of occupied booths. As soon as they sat down, Doris came back bringing the menus.

Scarlett politely rejected hers. “I'll have the usual, times two. And a beer,” she said, smiling at the woman, then turned her attention to Dean, who seemed to have made his choice already. “Bacon cheeseburger, and a beer, too,” he said as he returned the menu to Doris.

“Right away,” she replied, patting on Scarlett's shoulder, and just as she was leaving, she turned around, “do you want the second one after you're done with the first one?” She was addressing the young woman, who nodded in return.

No sooner had Doris disappeared behind the counter, that Dean leaned forward on the table. “Okay, wanna explain what's going on? You said you had some theories,” he asked, dropping his volume to make sure nobody could listen to the conversation. Scarlett was about to reply, but when saw the waitress coming back with their beers, she decided against it. “I'll get to that, not just now,” she replied, shrugging.

Dean clenched his jaw, clearly not amused and about to lose his temper. He didn't need any bullshitting. “Why not now?” He asked before taking a sip from his beer.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. She didn't want to drop the bomb, at least not until after he had eaten; she was sure that what she had to say would make his stomach turn and lose his appetite. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Doris returning with their order; Scarlett nodded and smiled at her as a sign of thank you, then dropped the smile when faced Dean again. “Eat first,” she said, signaling with her chin at the hamburger in front of Dean. He reluctantly agreed.

Dean noticed she had ordered a hamburger as well and was devouring it with urgency. He couldn't blame her, they were indeed delicious, but he couldn't help wondering one thing.

“I thought vampires only drank blood,” he leaned against the table once more, his tone low to avoid being heard by anyone around, and almost regretted having asked that, considering he was eating as well. He must have made a face because her answer was carefully worded. Well, at least she was considerate.

“Yes and no. We need the ruby red for sustenance, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy food. In fact, we get to enjoy it more, at least regarding quantity,” she replied, slightly tilting her head and raising her bottle of beer. A very faint grin across her face.

“How so?”

“Because there's no such thing as worrying about cholesterol, or fat setting on my hips. I can go through six of these,” she pointed at the hamburger, “and not gain a pound.” There was a hint of pride in her tone, he could tell.

Dean's eyes went wide. “Six? You went through six? Or you being hypothetical?”

“Mm-hmm, six,” Scarlett nodded. “What can I say? I love food.” She shrugged before taking another chomp at her hamburger. Soon after, Doris brought her second hamburger, which the redhead finished off in under five minutes. She ordered another beer, and so did he.

When they both had finished, Dean brought up the subject once more, leaning forward in the process, “okay, I ate. Now tell me what you know, because all this suspense is driving me insane. What the fuck is going on here?” His tone was urgent, and laced with a bit of dread that he was trying so hard to hide. Not to mention, that he was at the mercy of a vampire here. A vampire! Sure, she certainly was amiable, at least towards Doris, and not to mention hot. Damn, she was hot. But in the end she was still a bloodsucker, he wasn't about to hand his trust over _that_ easily.

Scarlett sighed heavily, slightly leaning back against her chair, and propping her feet up on an empty chair to her left. “There's at least two theories that I'm sure of, and gotta warn you, outside of those two, I'm in uncharted territory. So bear with me,” she said with a careful tone, as if to prepare him for a hard fall.

Dean's face tensed. So much for proverbial anesthesia, it already sounded very, very bad, and he hadn't even heard her theories yet. “I'm listening,” he said, trying to calm himself, the pit of his stomach tightening. He was thankful she had insisted on him eating first, because he had a feeling it could only get worse from here.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you familiar with time-space travel theories?" Scarlett asked. She was serious now, _too_ serious, and her expression was grim. Dean closed his eyes and took a painful breath. Of course he was familiar with either of those, considering he had experienced them both. “Yeah,” he said, trying so hard to calm the rising despair he was beginning to feel. It was one thing going through a time travel, or a dimensional jump -like the one Balthazar had put him and Sammy through some years ago-, when an angel was in charge of dropping you off and picking you up. But this clearly wasn't angel business.

“Ok, good, so I don't have to explain that one. Now, that's door number one. Door number two is, how do I put it... A little more disturbing,” Scarlett replied defensively, rubbing a hand over her brow. He shot up an alarmed look at her.

“What?! How disturbing?” He was truly worried now, yet he took a deep breath and asked her to go on.

“Realities can be bent, memories can be changed. Powerful warlocks can perform a reality shift for whatever reason. It's not common, but I've heard about one or two instances in the past,” she was explaining when she noticed Dean was not only worried, but confused. “Okay, let me put it this way. You wake up one day and instead of being Dean, you're Jonathan, and instead of a brother, you have a sister, for example. Now, normally, nobody is aware of that change, and for them that new reality is the only reality they always knew. But sometimes there's one or two people that know the truth, for some reason.”

Scarlett was about to continue when she noticed that he had crossed his arms over the table and was slowly burying his face into them. “This is a nightmare,” he breathed. He took a moment to steel himself and sat back again. “So which one of the two are we talking about here?”

She shrugged, “my best bet... Door number one. The other option would require a _lot_ of juice to pull off, and no offense to you, Dean, but I don't see why anyone would use _that_ on you.” She noticed the remark offended him nonetheless, “sorry, poorly worded,” she added, raising her hands defensively. She would have rolled her eyes at his bruised ego, had it not been a delicate situation. The guy was indeed in a tight spot, and she of course empathized with him. Especially when she wasn't 100% sure that she could actually help him. This was _way_ out of her league.

She cleared her throat, “what I meant is, why would anyone use that amount of seriously dark magic on a regular guy? I could understand if you were a public figure, say a politician trying to cover up something big, or trying to get your opponent to think they did something _really_ nasty and have them confess publicly so you can get all the votes.”

Dean gave her an incredulous look. “Oh, it happened, 'bout a decade ago or so in LA. Some State Senator trying to slither her way to the White House by making her opponent come out in public and say he was a pedophile. Which he wasn't, by the way. And on top of that, she wasn't even human. She was some demon that got itself inserted in a corpse through necromancy,” she explained, her mouth twitching a bit as she shuddered in an exaggerated fashion, then added, “I _hate_ necromancers.”

Dean let out a soft, nervous chuckle, seeing the similarity with the leviathans' plans some years ago. He quickly dismissed the thought. “So you're saying that I'm in a parallel universe,” he said with a deep sigh, words feeling heavy in his mouth. “Are you sure? 'Cause I've been through door number two as well.”

Scarlett sat up straight in her chair, putting her feet back on the floor, clearly curious about this reveal. “Really?” She asked, hoping he would drop some detail, Dean nodded in silent reply.

“More than once, in fact. So how can you be sure it's a dimensional jump and not a reality shift?” He asked.

She took another sip of her beer. “Well, for starters, you didn't run away from the Polgara, or me. The average human would have run off wetting their pants. Not only you didn't run away, you tried to fight it, and me. That shows you are familiar with monsters. And you mentioned demons, too. But you failed to identify me as a vampire, which I should mention, it's one of the most common demon species, and I regret to inform you, with quite large a population. Every single person that fights demons already faced a couple of vamps along the way,” she explained. “Besides, you mentioned some bright light. That's a big neon sign reading 'portal' all over.”

Dean felt the flow of information hit him hard in the face, some things didn't make sense. A _lot_ of things didn't make any sense, like a vampire trying to help him, for starters. It was a lot to take in. He rubbed his brow, feeling the slight headache coming back. “Okay, sweetheart, you gotta explain some things to me, 'cause a lot of what you saying don't make a lick of sense to me.”

“Okay, what you wanna know?”

“You make it sound as if demons and vampires are the same thing, and in my experience, they're different things,” he asked as he took a swig from his bottle of beer.

“Because they are,” Scarlett answered matter-of-factly. Dean shot her a look that read that's-not-enough. She took the hint and proceeded to elaborate. “Demons is the general terminology, much like saying primates. Primates comprise several species. Gorillas, baboons, etc. Even humans. There's thousands and thousands of demon species. Vampires being one among the many.”

“Gotcha,” he replied, nodding slightly. That made sense, but still, that didn't answer why she was helping him, while earlier she had said vampires kill. Not that it was new information to him. Before he could blurt the question, he noticed she was staring at her wrist watch. She uttered an almost silent _'Fuck'._ He instinctively took a glance at his own watch, then remembered it wouldn't help. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in self-mocking.

Scarlett signaled to Doris, and pretended to be writing on thin air. Dean fished for his wallet, taking a look inside, he noticed he had only forty bucks, which considering his current situation, it was bad. He realized he relied on his credit card scam way too much. She must have seen the four tens, and his worried expression, because before he tried retrieving the money, she cut him off. “Don't worry about the check,” she said.

“But-”

“I insist. Keep your money in case of emergency,” she said as she took a bill from inside her jacket.

“Thanks,” his tone was somewhat shy and uncomfortable. He didn't like having a chick pay for his meal, especially since it seemed she was going out of her way to help him out. But what other choice did he have? He didn't know how long he would be stranded here. Worse, what if he wasn't able to go back? Forty bucks wasn't much money. Nonetheless, he couldn't help feeling like he was taking advantage, even if the one helping him was a vampire, a creature that he would normally kill on sight.

“No problem,” she replied, then handed the money to Doris. “Keep the change as a tip,” she added as she stood up. The waitress hugged her again, thanking the redhead. “Stay safe out there, hunny,” Doris whispered. Breaking the hug, Scarlett gave her a scolding, yet friendly glare. “I know, I know! Either way, stay safe,” she insisted.

It took Dean only a moment to realize what was that about: the waitress knew what Scarlett was. Which raised even more questions that he desperately needed answered. “Later, Doris, awesome burgers, ma'am,” he said, grinning at her, on his way out. She smiled in return.

Scarlett started walking faster, “try and keep up,” she told him. Dean caught up with her. “Where are we going?”

“Kinda late for work. That's no problem, though, but gotta talk to Rick, my boss,” she replied sprinting across the street. He jogged after her.

“You work?” Dean's tone was full of shock and disbelief.

“Well, duh! Girl's gotta work if she wants to keep bills up to date and indulge in things,” she replied with a shrug, “it's not like I'm getting paid for chasing baddies, am I?”

“Good point.” Dean remained silent for a few more seconds before blurting the question, almost tempted to ask if she was a hooker. “So, uhm... What you do for a living?”

“Help out in a bar. Bartender most of the time, bouncer some other times, or helping after closing up. Depending on how busy the night is,” she explained.

“Bouncer? Really?” He asked with a smirk. She nodded. “Yeah, I happen to be more effective than most men, if not all. It's called super strength, pal,” she flashed a cocky grin at him that got him tingling all over.

Once they were at the bar, Scarlett asked Dean to wait at a table, then she disappeared behind the counter to talk to a man. Most likely Rick, Dean guessed. Their expressions were serious, and every now and then, the man would turn his attention to Dean. After several minutes, Rick disappeared into a room, and some moments later he returned with an envelope that he handed to Scarlett. She tucked it inside her jacket. Dean could tell she was constantly apologizing, and the way the man shook his head told Dean that Rick was probably saying “no worries”. She hugged him and then walked up to Dean. “Okay, let's go,” she motioned with her head.

“Where we going now?”

“Gotta see someone that may know something. It's a slim chance, but gotta try anyways.”

Dean nodded, then took a last glance at Rick. “Does he know you're a vamp?” He asked casually. She nodded in reply. “Huh. And he don't mind?”

“Nope, he doesn't. He trusts me, I trust him. That's about it.” She didn't feel like elaborating.

“So... are you two-” he started asking before she cut him off.

“God no, guy has a wife and two kids, I'm no home breaker,” she replied, her frown hard.

Once outside, she walked up to a gray, and awfully dirty, Honda Civic. Mid 90s model, Dean guessed. He could tell the car probably had seen much better days. Once inside, she turned to him. “Okay, this person we are going to see, is not exactly a person, understand? So no trying to gut him.” She started the engine and drove off.

“What!? We gonna see a demon?” Dean's tone was somewhere between worried and disgusted. “And you still have my knife, sweetheart, so I cannot exactly gut him, can I?” He reminded her.

“Just because he's a demon, it doesn't automatically make him evil,” she countered. “And I'm keeping the knife as a safety measure.”

Dean tried to argue her point, but she continued. “Demons, much like humans, come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Some species are good, some are evil, some don't give a fuck about anything. There's no black and white, just a lot of gray.”

“So what's the deal with you? You already said vampires kill, yet you're here helping me. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Like I said, there's special cases. I happen to be one,” she replied without looking at him. “And no problem.”

“What makes you so special, sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk. She ignored the question and kept driving. Dean took the hint and muttered a quiet 'oookay'. The long silence was making him uncomfortable, yet she seemed untouched by it. He tried another angle.

“Gotta say, I'm surprised by the choice of wheels. Thought you might have a bike, or a much better car,” he said looking around it. Unlike the outside, it was pretty damn clean inside.

Scarlett shot him a look and a sarcastic grin, “they were out of Lamborghini Diablos when I went out car shopping.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gave her his best bitch face, “just sayin', there's better cars out there.” He suddenly remembered his beautiful Impala, and closed his eyes shut. He just hoped Baby was safe out in that gas joint. He silently prayed that Sam would find her; he knew his little brother would be out there looking for him. Sammy would eventually run into Baby and take her home, right?

“My funds are quite limited, thank you, but I have my eyes on a precious. Just gotta find one for sale and hope it doesn't cost me an arm and a leg,” she shrugged.

“Which is?”

“Something I saw on TV.” She replied as she parked the car. “We're here. Now, remember, no trying to kill him.”

“Fine.” He sighed. Damn, she was good at deflecting, it was oh so frustrating. “So where to?”

“The sewers.” She locked the car once he was out, and started walking somewhat fast; he followed right behind.

“You kidding, right?” Dean hoped she was.

“Nope. Guy can't exactly rent an apartment, and most abandoned places either have homeless squatting, or tougher demons occupying them.” She lifted the sewage cover and tossed it aside. “There's a ladder,” she told Dean before jumping down the shaft, and landing swiftly.

“Great. Now I'm gonna reek,” he muttered before climbing down.


	4. Chapter 4

They walked a hundred feet or so of tunnels before reaching a thick, makeshift wooden door in a hidden area. It didn't look as bad as Dean had thought. Scarlett knocked three times.

"Who is it?" A shaky voice asked.

"Scarlett."

"What you want?" The voice sounded unsure now.

"Need your help."

"Busy now, come again later." Either the guy was annoyed, or mildly scared. Dean couldn't exactly tell.

"Don't make me kick this door down, Shrevis." Scarlett banged at the door non-stop; her tone was impatient and with an edge of threat. Dean threw her an amused look, and she merely shrugged. He surely liked her attitude and resolve. They immediately heard the door unlock and open.

"No, no, no need. Took me a while to replace the last one, thanks to you," Shrevis said with an accusatory glare at her. Dean almost chortled.

He was expecting something more grotesque, but the demon looked pretty much like a human, save for its faint blue, almost translucent skin, and the lack of hair and eyebrows. Its eyes were almost white.

"Who's the Homo sapiens?" Shrevis asked, glancing over at Dean, who frowned in return.

"A friend," she replied.

"Come in." He stepped aside to let them through. "Look, I already gave you all the info I had about that Polgara. I swear, I don't know where it's nesting."

"Relax, the Polgara is rat food by now," she replied. "Do you know any witch or warlock with enough juice to open up a portal?" She surely didn't waste any time.

Dean cringed, he hated witches so fucking much. Whenever there was one involved, mayhem and death ensued. He tried to protest, but the other two weren't exactly paying attention to him.

"Warlocks, yes. All related to Cyvus Vail's clan, well, what's left of it, anyways. Though I personally try to stay off their radar. They're not exactly the nicest demons around, not to mention, I'm fairly certain they put a price on my head after that incident last year," Shrevis' tone was laced with fear, Dean could tell.

Scarlett sighed in frustration, "well, I don't particularly want to ask for help to that incredibly nasty lot. Hell, I want to rip them apart good and proper. But I kinda need their help if I'm to send Dorothy here back to Kansas," she pointed at Dean. Shrevis frowned in confusion. "You don't need the details. Just gimme their location, and we'll be on our merry way. I won't get you in trouble, I promise."

"Yeah? What you gonna do? Knock on their door?" She shrugged, and the demon continued. "The moment you get close enough, they gonna smell that pretty soul of yours and instantly dust you. And him. Or even worse. Don't forget that it was someone like you who plotted Vail's death."

She faintly slammed a fist on a table. "Damn it! Didn't think of that." Her tone showing defeat.

That bit of information piqued Dean's interested. Soul? What the fuck did he mean?

"And that's not the worst," Shrevis' tone was even more serious now, "they got a couple of necromancers in their ranks. You want them throwing you around like a racquetball?"

"Of course they do." There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Her jaw was clenched, her hands were balled into fists, and her eyes were almost blazing in rage.

Dean felt hope slipping away by the minute, he didn't like the idea of messing with nasty demons, witches, or necromancers, but he was hoping they would find a way to send him back home. He didn't fully understand what was going on here, but he surely wanted an explanation.

"Why it's such a big deal if they-" He cleared his throat, "smell her?" It sounded dirty, he knew. Then again, it hadn't been accidental.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, but the demon was the one to answer. "Smell her  _soul_ , not her."

"Whatever. Why is such a fuss?" Dean insisted.

"Vampires don't have souls. And the three rare instances known to have one have a tendency to go postal on anything remotely evil. These warlocks will instantly retaliate against her because it was a vampire with a soul who had the head of their clan massacred. You can see the problem here?" The demon elaborated. "Wait, she didn't explain you that?"

"No, she didn't," Dean was staring at Scarlett, who shrugged in return, rolling her eyes in the process. He definitely was going to ask some more about that.

"Anyways, we gotta get going," she was quick to interject before Shrevis started babbling about stuff Dean had no business with. "If you can find me a witch, a  _good_  witch, or if you hear from one that can open a portal, gimme a call, please," she asked with urgency while slipping a fifty from her pocket and handing it to Shrevis.

"Will do," he assured her, then eyed the money. "Thank you."

* * *

On their way out of the sewers system, Dean couldn't help taking another glance at her ass while she was climbing up the ladder. There were moments where he felt like throwing some innuendo at her, but then his logical side would kick in.  _Vampire_ , he reminded himself a couple of times.

Before she started the engine, she flipped through her short contacts list on her phone. She mouthed a quiet 'nope' on almost every name. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She would have to check names she hadn't spoken to in a long time, or even people she didn't know. There was a reason they didn't make it to her phone.

"What is it?" Dean asked, glancing at her phone.

"I'm running out of reliable people to ask for help. I probably have some other names to call, but I'd really rather not." Her expression was hopeless, even worried. "I don't know, maybe check the internet and hope for an answer. Craigslist might come handy. Or even the journals at home can shed some light."

Dean tensed for a moment, "wait, you- you're taking me to your place?" His partial concern didn't go unnoticed; and she took offense at that.

"In case you have forgotten, you're in unknown territory here, with forty bucks in your wallet. I'm doing my best here, okay? But I'm not going to pay for a room when there's no estimate time on how long you'll be here, which could possibly be permanent. You understand? You can squat with Shrevis if you want. I'm sure the smell of sewer will be a nice wake up call." She was pissed off. Her nostrils were flaring and her glare was icy, which Dean felt as if it was cutting through him. "Besides, if I'm gonna go through books and all, instead of watching my favorite TV show, you can fucking bet I'm not doing it alone. It's  _your_  problem after all, okay?"

Dean's eyes went wide; and quickly nodded in agreement. Damn she could be scary. But she did have a point; it was his problem and his alone. She didn't have to help him, yet here she was. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's just that I'm still shaky about the whole vampire thing. No offense, sweetheart, it's nothing personal, but I'm not used to something like this."

She sighed. "Look, I get it, okay, but how many times do I have to explain that I'm one of the good guys? I'm not gonna bite you, if that's what you're afraid of. I'm not some rabid animal that loses its shit at the sound of blood pumping, or its smell. I'm better than that."

Dean remained silent for a moment, weighting his options. He wasn't 100% on board with tagging along with a vampire, even if it was a hella sexy girl. But, on the other hand, she was doing a lot to help him out, even if a part of him wasn't entirely sure about all this, he was relying on her. Where else could he find help? He knew nothing about this reality, and as proven before, rules were different from the ones he grew up with. He decided to trust her, but he would test her trust as well. "Okay, fine, but I'd honestly feel better if I had my knife back. Can't be too careful. I ain't gonna try anything if you don't. Ok?" His tone was resolute.

"Fair enough." She nodded before retrieving and handing Ruby's knife to him. "But I'd really like an explanation on why it has such nasty symbols." He nodded in agreement.

"Good." She started the engine and drove off.

During the ride, Dean explained everything about the knife, and how that particular pentagram was actually a protection one, as opposed to the satanic attribute she had assumed when they met. He also explained what demons were where he came from, and mentioned some of the creatures he encountered throughout his life. When she asked why he started hunting, he deflected the question. It was something too personal. Scarlett didn't insist, though Dean didn't know if it was lack of care, or lack of curiosity from her part, or if she was using his silence as a bargaining chip in case he asked that very same question to her. Which turned out to be the case; she too had deflected the question on how she ended up hunting creatures, considering she was a creature herself. He really wanted to know, but he wasn't gonna push her. And least not for now.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time they arrived at her building, it was 11:30pm.

Scarlett brought the car to an underground parking lot; then the two of them went all the way up to the third floor. Dean noticed the building wasn't that bad; and when she unlocked and opened the door of her apartment, he was surprised to see that the place wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected.

In a way, it reminded him of Bobby's living room, minus the awful wallpaper. Three big bookshelves were lining the adjacent wall, plus a forth one mirroring the door. All four of them were packed with books, most of them looked  _really_  old. A table with five chairs was close to the books. A computer monitor, a mouse and a keyboard sat on the far end of the table, and under it there was a CPU.

Thick black curtains were framing a corrugated glass door that led to a fire-escape ladder, and another set of black curtains framing a normal window. In front of them, there was a sofa, and a coffee table facing a LED TV that was mounted on the wall a few feet from the door, and beneath the TV there was a desk with a DVD player, a stereo and rows upon rows of CDs and DVDs. Dean made a mental note to check those out later on.

The kitchen was embedded into the living room and next to a small hall that Dean assumed led to the bathroom and her bedroom. It was pretty tidy, he had to admit. "Not bad," he said mostly to himself, still examining the place.

She cocked an eyebrow quizzically, "what? You were expecting a lone, dirty mattress on the floor, lots and lots of garbage, and several dead rats?" Her grin was wide, and her tone full of sass.

He huffed. "You always have a smartass reply for everything?" He mirrored her grin and tone.

"Of course I do." She replied with pride. "Take a seat," she motioned with her hand, taking in the place. Dean went straight for the couch, scanning the coffee table in front of him for the remote, and almost instantly he felt the urge to go to the bathroom. It had been several hours since he had last gone, and it had been back in Indiana. He asked her where it was, and she told him.

The bathroom was clean as well. He noticed the bottles of assorted bubble baths, oils and salts. He smiled in mild surprise and curiosity, he sure as hell hadn't pegged her for the bubbles kind.

Meanwhile, Scarlett took the opportunity to retrieve a metal thermos from the fridge and was drinking some of the blood in it. She didn't want to do it in front of him, considering the guy was being all skittish about her being a vampire. The less reasons she gave him to feel uncomfortable, the better. Besides, she didn't like drinking blood in front of others. Not everyone could stomach a sight like that. She removed her jacket and noticed the small hole the skewer left on it, then muttered a frustrated 'great', and proceeded to clean up the wound the Polgara left on her left arm, not even bothering to bandage it. She then turned on the TV, grabbed a couple of books and placed them on the table.

Dean was washing his hands, while scanning the room, when, inside the shower, he spotted a drying hanger with a set of black lacy panties and matching bra. He gulped hard; his brain trying to form suggestive images of the redhead before his logic side kicked in once more.  _Can't hit that, Dean_ , he kept repeating in his mind with regret.

When he returned to the living room, he saw her at the table, legs crossed at her ankles over another chair -just like she had done at the diner, he noticed-, focused on a book and holding a glass. He instantly noticed the bottle of Jack Daniels on the table. She didn't look at him.

Dean also noticed she didn't have her jacket on anymore; she was wearing a tight tanktop, and he could now appreciate her silhouette much better. He walked up to her; and from where he was standing, he could clearly see her cleavage almost in full display. Boy, she had a  _fine_  rack. He closed his eyes for a moment before finding some composure, then sat in the chair opposite to her. At least her book was blocking that glorious view. It all felt like a cruel joke. Why a vampire had to be so fucking hot? He mentally cursed every single deity he could think of.

Thank god she had hard liquor, he thought. He had been needing a drink ever since he had landed on this world. Between the ordeal he was going through, and the sporadic dirty thoughts he was trying to avoid every time he took a glance at her, his body was screaming for lots of alcohol. His eyes kept traveling from the cover of the book -as if trying to wish it away- to the bottle, and back again. She must have caught him.

"Top cabinet next to the fridge," she said, eyes still fixated on the text.

"What?"

"You want a glass? Or you gonna ogle at the bottle all night?" She quipped at him.

Again with the sarcastic tone and look. He let it slide. It wasn't the bottle what he wanted to ogle at, he admitted to himself. He went to fetch a glass.

He couldn't help humming in delight the moment he tasted the whiskey. God, he really had needed a drink. He served himself another one as soon as he finished the first one.

Scarlett glanced up at him for a second, then made a mental note that she'd probably have to buy more Jack. She had a funny feeling her current stock wasn't gonna be enough.

"You find anything?" He asked, scanning some of the books on the shelves. Some titles were really obscure. Dean felt chills down his spine, then he threw a wary look at her. "For someone that was concerned over my knife, you sure have some pretty dark stuff here." He pointed at a book labeled  _'The Origins of Black Magic'._

She sat up straight, putting her feet on the ground, "I use it as reference material, to identify spells, or rituals I may accidentally come across, and know how to counter them. I don't use black magic. Besides, that thing is safer with me than in the wrong hands."

"Makes sense. So, find anything?" He repeated, pointing at the book in her hands. She handed it to him. Dean flipped through some pages. Some things were a little too technical. But from what he could understand, it was mentioning possible theories on what could cause a dimensional jump. "Anything on how to make one?" He asked.

"I don't have anything that conveys that, and even if I did, we still need a witch or a warlock to open it," she explained before taking another gulp of whiskey.

When she shifted in her chair, a thick strand of hair fell to her back, exposing the bloody, round wound on her arm, it had about the size of a bullet entry. Dean frowned. "That looks bad," he pointed at it, a bit of concern showing. How the fuck was that hole  _not_  bleeding?

She looked at her arm, and made a face. "This? This is nothing. It's already healing. Give it a week or so and there won't be a sign of it. Vampires heal pretty damn fast."

Wow. That was pretty damn awesome, he had to admit. "So you don't have any battle scars?" He couldn't help himself; he wasn't much thinking about the possible scars, but the canvas itself.

"None." She offered dryly before she stood up to pick some other books, then put them on the table. Without the jacket, Dean could appreciate her small waist. She was petite, and had a beautiful figure all around, and curvy in all the right spots. He mentally rolled his eyes in painful frustration. And when she crouched to grab yet another book from the bottom shelf, the hem of her tanktop got free from her jeans, revealing a tribal tattoo -or was it barbed wire?- on her lower back.

Dean let out a frustrated low groan that he hoped went unnoticed.  _Of course she would have a tramp stamp_ , he thought, rubbing a heavy hand from his brow to his mouth. She was one hell of a seductive little vixen, but the worst of it was that she wasn't even trying to seduce him. He could tell that from the way she had addressed him a couple of times. That woman was all work and no play, it seemed, yet exuding confidence and seduction like it was nobody's business. It was absolutely frustrating. He noticed his jeans were growing tighter, and he shifted in his seat, mentally cursing once more.

He downed another glass of Jack. For a moment, all thoughts of her left him, and he was back into heavy thinking mode regarding his current situation. What if they couldn't find a way to send him back home? What if he never saw Sammy again? That particular thought filled him with dread and pain. Not only because of the obvious reason of not knowing if he'll ever see him again, but also because, unbeknownst to Sam, there was an angel currently vacating inside of him, curing him from the inside after the trials to seal off Hell had left Sammy almost dead.

Dean was also worried about Kevin, who was sealed in the bunker with none other than Crowley himself, who was chained up in the dungeon. And then there was Cas, who was wandering around in mortal form, and being hunted down by most of the angels that fell. Everything was a disaster. And being stranded here, with no way to help his friends and his brother was driving Dean insane. He didn't realize he had finished off yet another glass. At least, with all the worried thoughts, his boner was gone.

By the time he snapped out of his mental trance, Scarlett was sitting again, going through another book, and taking glances at the TV while smoking a cigarette. Dean noticed she was a little too focused on the screen. Her eyes looked a little glazed, and her lips were slightly parted.

Dean frowned in wonder, and turned around, curiosity taking the best of him. He needed to see what could possibly make Mrs Ice Queen react like that.

There was some dark haired guy, practically shirtless walking up to some brunette.

"Hello, you sexy thi-" She began absently, her words were laced with desire, before they were cut off by her phone ringing,  _'The Imperial March'_  booming in the room. She snapped out of it with a frustrated 'untimely much?' She picked up and left the living room.

Okay, that was an interesting reaction to witness. Scratch that, a little hot to witness. Okay,  _very_  hot to witness. She was lusting after the guy on the TV, Dean concluded; and the mere thought of her lusting caused him to groan slightly. Maybe he would poke some fun at her over that.

When she returned, her face was less than happy. She mentioned that one witch -that Scarlett was counting on to help out- has been dead for near a decade. Awesome, more bad news. He decided to leave the joke for some other time.

The next hour passed too slowly for Dean. All the books they were checking weren't really helping; witches in Craigslist were charging insane fees -he still was trying to wrap his head around that one-, and most of the contacts that Scarlett was hoping to get help from were a no-go. His levels of anxiety, panic and despair were up the ceiling. Not to mention that every now and then, he would have some dirty thought about the redhead; the lust in her eyes had been a view that Dean was having a  _really_  hard time recovering from. It didn't help either that she had opened a second bottle of Jack Daniels. She had drunk much more than him and yet she was as cool as a cucumber, while he was starting to feel a little buzzed. Absently, he kept drumming his fingers on the table, non stop.

Scarlett glared at him, but he didn't notice. "Okay, that's it." She snapped at him as she got up, clearly fuming as she put out her cigarette on the almost overflowing ashtray. Startled, Dean instantly stopped his tapping, and gave her a questioning look.

"You're clearly on edge. I don't blame you, okay? But you're driving me insane with that incessant tapping, and I'm afraid my alcohol stash is not gonna be enough for the both of us. Grab your jacket and let's go." She said as she was putting her own jacket on, and tucking her phone and pack of smokes inside of it.

"What? You kicking me out?" Dean couldn't hide his surprise, confusion, and disappointment.

"No, of course not. We are going out to find something to punch and take the edge off." She explained, now a little more calmed and understanding after seeing his worried look.

He sighed in relief. Yeah, beating the shit out of something would definitely help.  _Although, there's other ways to take the edge off_ , he thought, looking at her up and down. "Sounds like fun," he replied instead.


	6. Chapter 6

They didn't take the car this time. She had said that it would be easier to find something if they were on foot. They had been lurking most of the dark alleys nearby before she stopped on her tracks, and had told him to hide in the threshold of an abandoned building. She had explained to him that vampires could sense each other, and that there was one nearby.

"Pftt, I'm not hiding," he protested.

"You do what I say and let me work him up a bit before you go ballistic on him, okay?" Her chin was lifted up, her hands on her hips, and her tone was commanding. It was both intimidating and hot at the same time. Dean sighed in defeat and flattened himself against the door. Scarlett was now in the threshold area as well, staring out of the corner of the wall at a male vampire that was walking in their general direction, she turned around to avoid being seen, and accidentally pressing herself against Dean. She felt a faint poking against her lower back.

 _Well, hello_ , she thought, trying to contain a smile and a chuckle. That was indeed interesting.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to muster all his will to not let out any sound, and failed; a faint groan escaped his lips. The slight contact was driving him insane. He was surprised and confused when she uttered a low 'sorry'. Of course she felt his hard-on, how could she not? Dean didn't have a doubt about it, but what he wasn't expecting was her not only letting him know she felt it, but also apologizing. What the fuck was that about, anyways?

He was half-tempted to place his hands on her hips, but before he could do anything, she darted straight to the vampire and started fighting him. She was throwing kicks and punches, and taking some as well, but never backing away. She was taunting the guy, calling him all sorts of insults, and being a sarcastic little bitch. She was agile, and fast to intercept and evade the punches. The whole image was absolutely arousing; and of course, Dean could notice her rack bouncing through her open jacket as she moved around, and could hear her grunts and growls as she fought. He was losing it fast, completely on the edge, and screaming inside for some sort of release.

She was systematically wearing the guy down. What she lacked in size -compared to the robust and tall vampire-, she made it up in agility. Maybe she was stronger? Dean couldn't tell. The male vampire lost his balance and found himself on his knees; she took this chance to knee him hard in the face. He growled in pain, yellow eyes blazing with fury. She then twisted him around and locked his arms behind his back on a tight grip. Her expression was full of pride; and Dean saw something else in her eyes: bloodlust, which made her even sexier, and made him harder.

"Okay, Rocky, your turn," she said looking at Dean with a grin. He stepped up and started beating up the vamp like there was no tomorrow. Punch after punch filled with frustration and anger. From time to time, he would glance up and look at Scarlett, whose eyes were fixed on him. There was a faint, proud smirk on her face that made Dean almost weak in the knees. He focused once more on the vamp in front of him and kept hitting him over and over again. It felt great.

"That's right, pour all your rage onto him." Her tone was enticing, menacing, and proud all at once, which made Dean more aroused, and frustrated. Was she doing it on purpose? He didn't fucking know at this point.

Scarlett hadn't exactly paid attention to Dean's looks when she found him in that alley earlier that night. Between the damn Polgara, and helping him in regards of his dimensional jump, her mind had been too preoccupied to stop and look at him. But now that she was a bit more relaxed after the tussle with the vampire, she had a chance to take a better look at the man, and she had to admit, he was very attractive. And even more now that he was beating the shit out of that fang. It was quite a hot view. Between Dean's furious glaring at the vampire, and the way he would look at her from time to time, she was feeling a bit aroused.

She wouldn't mind hitting that, but considering the guy was all skittish regarding her vampirism, she shrugged the idea off. Besides, the guy was going through something heavy, she wasn't about to throw herself at him. Shame, she would have liked some action. God knows it'd been a good while since.

Dean was already feeling a little better, not much though. It would take a lot more of beating to calm his frustrations, both from his magic ride, and from his current desire to bang her senseless.

"He's almost done for," Scarlett said, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm not done," he replied, continuing his merciless punching on the almost-passed-out vampire.

"We'll find another, don't worry."

That was enough to make him stop. "Alright. Although, I'd rather one less predictable than a pinned down asshole."

"Then newbie it is," she said as she lifted the vampire off the floor, who barely could stand.

Dean's eyes remained on her for more time than he had intended, watching her manhandle the vampire. She was rough. He liked that. A whole damn lot. "What about him?"

She raised an eyebrow, almost seductively, and grinned at him. "Dust to dust." She said as, in one swift motion, she retrieved a wooden stake from her inner pocket and ran it through the vampire's heart. He exploded in a mist of dust.

Dean's eyes grew wide in surprise. "The fuck? The stake is not a myth? And they just go poof?" He locked eyes with her, waiting for her to, maybe, explain some more.

She frowned at him, "yeah, what were you expecting?"

Dean proceeded to describe the vampires from his reality, and how to kill and weaken them. Scarlett made a disgusted expression when he mentioned the shark-like line of fangs; and he couldn't help smirking at it. When he asked about the species in this reality, he could see she was hesitant to reply. She was still wary of him; and at some level, it hurt. "I'm not gonna turn on you, I promise," he reassured her, flashing a charming smile at her.

She squinted her eyes, pursing her lips ever so slightly. She was sizing him up, forming a verdict, he concluded. Then she relaxed her shoulders.

"Alright. You saw the wooden stake. Then there's decapitation, and then fire," she was counting with her fingers. "And of course that includes that big ball of fire up in the sky."

So sunlight killed them. He instantly remembered her apartment. "So that's why the black curtains."

She nodded. "We can be out in daylight, as long as direct sunlight doesn't hit us. I gotta keep the curtains shut until noon. My view has eastern exposure, so yeah, it's an issue in the mornings. Besides, I love black. Holy objects are a problem as well." He frowned. "Holy water, crucifixes, rosaries, even Bibles, make our skin sizzle like bacon on a frying pan. Ingesting holy water is fatal," she continued.

Okay, that was good to know. Not because of her, of course, but to have an advantage in case of a fight with another one. Good thing he had that flask in his inner pocket. He decided to level with her and mention it, explaining why and how he had it. Her predatory eyes were scanning everything around them. Either she was really focused, or she was avoiding eye contact. Dean guessed it was the former.

"So where we gonna find a newbie?"

"With any luck, one will pop up in the graveyard. If not, we'll keep looking around." She was twirling the stake in her hand.

"Graveyard? Really?" That was certainly an odd place to find a vamp. "You know, I have experience dealing with creatures, so it don't need to be a newbie." He couldn't help smirking and winking at her.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure of that." It wasn't sarcasm, he could tell. "You may be used to my disgusting, shark-like distant cousins, but since I haven't seen them, or fight them, thank God, I can't tell if they are more dangerous than the standard variety. And I'm not gonna risk you getting hurt, or killed, just to prove some point."

She was watching out for him, and it made him smile. This was probably the first time in his life where he had nobody around to watch out for, while someone else was watching out for him. It felt odd.

He remained silent for a moment, "I was temporary one, a day or two, before I was cured." He didn't plan on mentioning that, but the words left him before he could form a thought.

She stopped cold on her tracks, face full of shock. "Say that again?" He repeated himself. Her mouth remained open for a while, trying to utter any word, over and over, until she could form a proper sentence. "You were turned into a vampire? And then reverted back? How is that even possible?"

Dean explained how it happened, how he was forced vampire blood into his mouth, and how not feeding was the key to being cured, plus the strange concoction. He noticed her eyes were full of wonder, and something else, realization.

"So turning into a vampire didn't kill you. Or else you wouldn't have been able to revert back to human."

He nodded at her, then thought of her wording. "What do you mean by that?"

Scarlett took a deep breath, then she started walking again. "Why do you think we are heading to the graveyard?"

Dean understood now. "So how's the process exactly?" He was curious. He wasn't a fan of sitting with books and digging up lore, but that didn't mean he didn't like lore. The more he knew, the better. He always wanted to be prepared for anything.

"Vampire drains you to the point where your heart slows down, almost to the brink of death. Then he feeds you his blood. That causes your heart to stop. Next time you wake up, you're a vampire. And considering most of the people turned are found on the streets, clinically dead for the unaware common folk, they are buried like any normal corpse. Lots of ME's, or funerary homes don't know shit about what really happens out there." She explained, then paused for a moment. "Clawing your way out of a coffin, now that's a weird trip." The sarcasm in her voice was covering up for something else.

Dean had been a lot of things in regards of her: wary, attracted, horny, grateful, annoyed, but never felt sorry for her. Not until now. He knew what she had gone through. He had died -more than once- and had climbed out of a grave as well. It was indeed a weird trip. More like traumatic, which was what she was trying to cover up.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. She threw him a quizzical look. "That you had to go through that," he explained.

Scarlett shrugged, "it's not a big deal. I'm over it. It's been a long time."

Dean cleared his throat before shooting the next question. "So, how old are you?" Fuck, that's not how he had wanted to word it.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "has anyone ever told to never ask a lady their age? It's rude."

Yeah, that's exactly what he had wanted to avoid. "I'm sorry, I meant, how-"

She didn't let him finish. "Relax, I'm messing with you, Dean. I know what you meant."

He shot her a look. "Ha ha, very funny. So, how old are you?" His grin flashing wide. Yeah, he wasn't gonna rephrase.

She nodded slightly. "Touche. I was 23 when I was turned almost 26 years ago. So let's round it to half a century."

"How did it happen?"

"I already told you how vampires are turned." There was something in her tone; Dean couldn't tell exactly what.

"No, I mean, what happened?" He insisted, but instantly regretted it when he saw her eyes turn dark.

"Don't really wanna talk about it." Her tone was low, and her look was pleading. Dean nodded in understanding, muttering a quiet 'sure'.

They were at the graveyard, and Dean noticed she was back to hunting mode, looking around, looking at the dates in some tombstones. "This may take a while, but I can assure that every night there's at least one that crawls up from their grave."

"That's a lot of fangs, if you add up, I mean." He leaned against a large tombstone.

"That's why the nightly routine of coming here, dust as many as I can. But it's never enough, no matter how many I, or others, kill, it's never enough." She shrugged in acceptance.

Every night? She came here every night? To kill newly risen vampires? Dean was impressed by her commitment, which again raised the question of why she was doing it. What was that business about a soul, about being a special case. He had to ask her, he sure as hell wanted to know. He only hoped she wouldn't deflect like she did before.


	7. Chapter 7

The vampire had been fairly easy to fight. Sure, it had landed a couple of punches on Dean's face, but nothing out of the ordinary. After a good while fighting the newbie, Dean got to stake it, again surprised and amused at how it exploded into dust. That was actually pretty handy, not having to do anything at all to dispose it. No remains at all, no potential issues with the authorities. Awesome.

He had expected a lot more resistance from it, but according to Scarlett, disorientation was a norm when you rose, and the lack of realization regarding strength also factored into the equation. He felt a little more relaxed now, but there were still lingering thoughts regarding home. He just couldn't help worrying. He must have really spaced out, because he certainly got startled when she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"What?" He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Right, graveyard.

"I said, we are done for the night. We can always come back tomorrow, if you need to punch some more," she squinted at him. "You okay?"

"Sure I am." Dean wished he sounded more confident.

"You're lying." She gave him a meaningful look. "There's no way you can be okay. You're far from home. You said you had a brother, right?"

He nodded. "Sammy, he's the only family I got, and he's sick." It was technically true, after all. "And I'm not there to take care of him."

Scarlett winced at that, she wished she could reassure him, a 100%, that she would send him home soon. "I'm sorry to hear that. We'll keep trying to find something, okay?" Her tone was soft and compassionate.

During the rest of their way back to her place, they pretty much exchanged descriptions of different monsters, the differences between same species, how to kill each one of them. The whole nine. Dean could see she was really curious about everything, and more than once, she would make a remark about how having a row full of shark-like teeth was disgusting as fuck, and that whoever decided to label them 'vampires' was an ' _illiterate fuck who deserved to be bitch-slapped all the way to China_ '. That had him laughing hard for a good five minutes, not just because of what she said, but because of the way she said it. Oh, so pouty, grumpy and offended! It was actually kinda cute. God, he had needed that laugh really bad.

Once back at her apartment, Scarlett went straight for the bottle of Jack, filling up two glasses, then lit up a cigarette, and sat down in front of the computer. She was still going through some of the shady sites that had some sort of reference to warlocks and portal magic.

Dean thanked her for the whiskey and went straight to check out her CD collection. He couldn't help smiling when saw most of the names of the bands. Lots of metal, lots of hard rock, punk, some classic rock like The Doors and the Rolling Stones. And of course there was stuff he didn't really dig. He spotted several Bon Jovi CDs, and couldn't help making a snark.

"Bon Jovi? Really?" He chided at her with a fake frown, which was instantly returned with a bitch face, and an overly defensive "got a problem with that?"

"Just sayin'. Seems a bit outta place between all those other awesome artists." He wasn't really putting her down, but trying to push her buttons a bit and get a reaction.

"Out of place? Most of the bands there are classic 80s. Including Bon Jovi. So no, not outta place at all." Really? Did he just dissed Bon Jovi? Not cool. "Don't lecture me on 80s music."

Yup, he hit a nerve there and decided to take it a little further. It was fun watching her get flustered. "I'm not lecturing you, just stating a fact. Bon Jovi is too soft." He flashed her a grin. Boy, he was having so much fun with this.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and rubbing a hand over her mouth. Clearly trying to remain calm. "I'm sorry, how old are you? Thirty?"

"Thirty-four. Why?" He kept smiling, trying to not burst into laughter at her being all flustered.

"Because while you probably were in kindergarden, I was doing the whole LA scene, and guess what? Bon Jovi kicked major ass on stage." She was waving her pointer finger around, clearly upset.

He lifted an eyebrow in clear interest. "You lived in LA during the 80s?" That must have been awesome, there were a lot of hair metal groups he actually liked.

She nodded. "Spent most of my nights at the Whiskey A-Go-Go, the Troubadour, The Roxy, amongst others. Saw most of the big ones before they were actually big ones. Best six years of my life." Dean noticed pride and nostalgia in her tone of voice. He had to admit it, he felt jealous.

"I bet." He turned around and placed the CD back in its slot, then picked up another one. "Garbage? Now that's an interesting name." He gave her a disapproving look, that was of course, overly exaggerated.

"Don't you dare insult Garbage, or God help me."

"What's so special about them?" Okay, time to back off a bit before she got seriously pissed off.

"They are simply amazing, and Shirley has one of the best voices ever. Besides, the songs are... Amazing." Yeah, better not get into why she loved Garbage so much.

The clock in the computer read 4:02am. Sure, it wasn't late for her, but Dean surely needed to rest. The guy probably was exhausted after such ordeal, plus the fights with the two vampires.

After turning off her computer, she stood up. "I'm gonna get you a blanket and a pillow so you can turn in." Then she disappeared into the hall.

Dean nodded silently. Well, that was a bit disappointing; he was hoping she'd stay in the living room a bit longer and hang out with him, or... Yeah, after that brief moment of exchanged glances back in the street, he thought that  _maybe_  something could happen. He just couldn't stop thinking about her ass pressed on his boner, how good it felt. Great, now he was getting hard again.

Scarlett returned and dropped the items on the couch, then went and grabbed her phone, her smokes, and the bottle of Jack. Once again, she disappeared into her bedroom. Dean took the opportunity to go to the bathroom. He considered taking care of himself, but since the bathroom was right next to her bedroom, there was a chance she might hear him. Once he was out, he found her in the living room waiting for him. "Hey, Scarlett, any chance you got a spare toothbrush?" He guessed not, but it was worth the shot. He realized it was the first time since meeting her that he addressed her by her name.

"Sorry." She said with an apologetic shrug, she was about to leave when she remembered something else. "When you wake up,  _if_  you do wake up before I do, that is, leave the curtains shut, please." He nodded in acknowledgment. "And needless to say, if you want to get a beer, or some water from the fridge, or grab a bite, feel free to, okay? Just stay away from the metal thermos."

"Sure, thanks, sweetheart." Good to know he could grab a beer without asking, but the other thing got him curious. "What's the deal with the thermos?"

Scarlett tilted her head slightly, trying to find the right words. "That's my... food." She said the last word in almost a whisper.

"Gotcha." Blood. That had to be it. He hadn't exactly thought about it when she mentioned she didn't kill people. Not that it was a big deal, he had taken some blood bags to Benny, and seen him feed, so he was kinda familiar with the situation.

"Good night, Dean, try to rest as much as you can, okay? We'll keep looking tomorrow." She said with a nod.

"Good night to you too, and thanks."

"No problem." Then she disappeared into her bedroom, shutting the door.

Scarlett turned the TV on in her room, and her laptop, which was already on the bed. She stripped until she was only in her panties, and grabbed an over-sized black t-shirt that had The Ramones logo on it and put it on. She sat on the bed, back against the headboard, and began typing frantically on the keyboard, pulling up wiccan site after wiccan site. From time to time, she would take a gulp of whiskey straight from the bottle, and glance at the TV.

Dean set the pillow on one side of the couch, then proceeded to remove his clothes until he was in his boxer briefs and t-shirt. He folded the discarded clothes and placed them on the coffee table. He turned off the light, the switch being next to the door, so he used his phone screen's light to see his path back to the couch. He then lay down on his back, and covered himself with the blanket, mind racing with everything that had happened today. And then, a faint scent hit his nostrils. Vanilla and coconut. He slowly turned until he was lying on his stomach. Yeah, the sweet smell came from the pillow. He then remembered spotting a vanilla and coconut shampoo in the bathroom. Now he could also detect some faint notes of roses. Must be her perfume, he mused. Burying his face in the pillow, and gripping it tight, he groaned in sexual frustration, then muttered a quiet "son of a bitch".

Great, just what he needed, yet another reason to think about the woman in the next room. As if having seen her underwear in the bathroom earlier hadn't been enough to send his mind into overdrive, now he had the smell of her hair right under his face. And let's not think about her pressed against him, or the lustful look she had when she was staring at that guy on TV. He groaned again, taking a big whiff off the pillow. Fuck, it smelled  _so damn good_.

He didn't know what to do. Well, he wasn't gonna go into her bedroom, throw heavy innuendo, and hope for the best. For once, he didn't know if she had any desire to have sex with him. Hell, he could end up with a broken nose if she didn't, and second, she was a vampire. It wasn't a simple situation. Part of him wanted to say 'fuck it' and go for it. But another part of him was hesitant, especially when, in the past, he had given Sammy so much shit for hooking up with Ruby. Okay, it was different, Ruby had turned out to be utterly evil, she had completely fooled both him and Sam. And Scarlett certainly didn't seem the evil type; sure, there was a chance he could be wrong; after all, Ruby had played the good Samaritan pretty fucking well, and look how that ended? With Lucifer out of his fucking cage. But then again, the vampire didn't have a reason, or motive, to play him, unlike Ruby.

Leaving that aside, there was the issue of her not being human, at least, not completely. Yeah, sure, it wouldn't be the first time that he banged a woman who wasn't entirely human, but that time he had been tricked into bed by an Amazon. Well, not exactly tricked, but she had conveniently left that important bit out. But in this case, Dean completely knew what the redhead was, and yet, he couldn't stop thinking about fucking her into the mattress.

All that thinking had gotten him to the point where, in this position, his erection was bothering him. He shifted once more until he was on his back again. He really wanted to jack off, but considering that he was on her couch, under her blanket... Yeah, he didn't really want to have to explain to her why her items were stained. Not only it would be fucking embarrassing, but also rude and ungrateful. She was letting him crash there, for fucks sake, he wasn't gonna be an ass and ruin her stuff, no matter how horny he was. Despite her cold and tough act, she truly seemed like a nice... Yes, person.

The scent was still lingering, and Dean couldn't help reliving her fight with the vampire; she had so much energy, and mobility, and strength. Sure, she had worked the guy up pretty hardcore, but even in that state, the amount of strength to keep him in place while Dean pummeled him must have been tremendous. Geez, imagine that much strength during sex...

The thought of it caused Dean to groan once more; one hand running heavy over his brow and down to his mouth. The other one was absently over his briefs, stroking his hard-on. It took him a good twenty seconds before realizing what he was doing, and instantly pulled his hand away, muttering a quiet "fuck" in the process. Before too long, he finally fell asleep.

Scarlett huffed in frustration, none of the searches returned any useful result. She was growing more concerned by the minute. She lit another cigarette, flipping channel after channel until she decided nothing was interesting, so she turned the TV off and sneaked under the covers. Hopefully, tomorrow would be more fruitful.


	8. Chapter 8

Scarlett woke up with the sound of her phone vibrating. She looked at the time and groaned in frustration. It was 11am. Too fucking early, at least, for a vampire. She looked at the name on the screen, it was Rick. She picked up with a dry and low "what" that sounded more like a growl. He wanted an update on the situation regarding the man she was trying to help. After explaining some things, and avoiding others, she gave him a list of stuff she needed, and threw a friendly insult at him for waking her up so early. After she hung up, she tried going back to sleep, at least for another two hours or so, but failed.

After tossing and turning for a whole hour, she got up, and looked for something to put on her legs. She usually just strolled around in her panties and t-shirt, but considering there was a house guest, she needed pants. Not that she had any sense of shame or anything, certain inhibitions had been long gone ever since turning. Nudity didn't bother her in the least, well, depending on who was looking at her, not because of shame, but because of boundaries. But she didn't want to be inconsiderate, or make Dean uncomfortable. Well, she doubted he would feel uncomfortable if suddenly she were to be around him half-naked. Scarlett had noticed the way Dean had been staring at her, and the boner, of course. How could she forget the boner? It didn't mean anything. Guys tend to get hard too easily, and sometimes is not even a sign of anything -hell, she had been aroused by just staring at random guys, but it didn't mean she wanted to have sex with them-; so she decided not to over-analyze it.

She found a pair of very old -and ragged- jeans and put them on, then picked up the empty bottle of Jack Daniels, the overflowing ashtray, and left the bedroom. A sliver of non-fatal sunlight surrounding the curtains gave enough lighting to see the living room perfectly, at least, for her vampire eyes. She walked up to the kitchen counter, glancing briefly at Dean, who was still completely passed out on the couch. He was on his stomach, hugging the pillow, and the blanket was mostly on the floor. She couldn't help dropping her jaw, and by some miracle, not dropping the items she was carrying in the process.

Holy fuck. Those biceps were a-fucking-mazing; and the way his olive t-shirt was hugging his torso, left Scarlett wondering what genius suggested that it was a good idea for Dean to wear a flannel. And of course, that ass. That was one hell of an ass, perfectly round under those black boxer briefs. She could nibble at it all day long.

She had thought him attractive and all, he certainly had a pretty face, and pretty eyes, and one hell of a sexy mouth, but the rest of his body had seemed average thanks to the unnecessary layers. Well, except for his legs; she had certainly noticed those bowlegs, and hell if they hadn't reminded her of Axl Rose's legs, and had gotten her all tingly in her panties. But now that they were exposed, she couldn't help whistling, at least in her mind.

Certainly the flannel and the jacket didn't do his upper body any justice. Good God, his shoulders and back were broad, and his muscular arms were just perfect.  _Wonder what his chest looks like_ , she thought. The man upstairs certainly broke the mold with this one.

She rapidly shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. She left the items next to the sink and went back to her bedroom. She picked clean underwear, a tanktop, a pair of blue jeans, and her phone, then headed to the bathroom. She filled the bathtub, poured some rose scented salts and bubbles, and stepped in.

The music was at a low volume, so as to not wake Dean up, despite being in separate rooms. After forty minutes of relaxation, she quickly washed her hair, and ten minutes later, she was out of the bathroom, just in time to hear a knock on her door. Rick arrived sooner than she had expected.

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of conversation right outside the door, which was ajar. He saw just a glimpse of her, but he couldn't see the other person, but he could tell it was a man -he heard him cough-, but couldn't hear what they were talking about. Dean took this opportunity to put on his jeans, he didn't want to, though, because they would bother him at the moment, but he had no choice. He wasn't gonna be around in his boxers when he had a morning boner, no matter how much he wanted to test the waters and see her reaction.

He headed to the bathroom, and upon entering, a rose-scented wave hit him square in the face, then noticed the wet bathtub, and the dirty clothes and towels in a laundry basket. He softly groaned in frustration when the image of what surely had transpired filled his head. After peeing, he washed his hands, staring at himself in the mirror, and wondering how the fuck was he going to go through the day if everything he could think about was that redhead taking a shower.

When he emerged, Scarlett was already inside and retrieving items from a brown bag. Amongst the items he spotted two bottles of Jack Daniels. Whelp, she certainly made sure to keep her stock of alcohol full.

"Morning," he said with a smile.

"Morning. Sleep well?" She asked without looking as she was putting the bottles and other items away.

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his head, trying to not think of the smell of roses emanating from her. "Comfy couch, slept like a baby."

She turned her gaze to him, nodding in agreement; and Dean noticed her eyes briefly drifting to his chest, then back to his eyes, and finally back to the ashtray she was washing up. Yahtzee, she was totally checking him out. His smile turned into a smirk.

"What about you?" He took a few steps towards her before she turned around. He almost choked on himself. Her black tanktop was not only tight and perfectly framing that amazing rack of hers, but also had a big stretched-out inscription in white that read 'BITE ME'.  _Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice_ , he thought. But the irony of the phrase made him almost chuckle.

"Same old, same old." She sighed before continuing. "Thought you might need that, considering... Well, we don't exactly know when you'll be able to get back home." Her face was apologetic, as if she didn't want to keep reminding him that he was far from home. She was pointing at the coffee table.

Dean turned to look at it, and spotted a plastic bag next to his flannel, that clearly had items inside. He gave her a questioning look, then went to check it out.

His mouth hanged open when he saw the contents. A toothbrush, a razor, shaving foam, deodorant, two pairs of socks, two pairs of boxer briefs, and two black t-shirts. He looked back at her, who merely stood there, completely poker-faced.

"Th-Thank you. I-I don't know what to say. Thank you, really. You shouldn't hav-"

"It's no big deal. You can't be around with dirty clothes, now can you?" She tried sounding sarcastic, but Dean could tell that it was an attempt at humor. He suddenly felt shy, and guilty. Guilty for crashing at her place, guilty for drinking her whiskey, guilty for interfering with her usual routine, and guilty because she had just spent money on items to make his staying a little better. And the worst of it was, he knew it wouldn't be the last time, considering that he had to eat as well. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his brow.

"What?" Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You're doing a lot already, you shouldn't- it's just that- fuck-, I feel like a fucking leech, okay? And I hate it. Just let me give you the forty bucks I have, okay? Not gonna be remotely square, but, it's something." His voice was low, and he was staring at her, trying to read her features.

"Like I said. No big deal." She insisted, keeping her tone firm.

"But you're spending your money." He had to look away; the situation was embarrassing as fuck.

"So? I can get it back easily." She was examining her nails, then raised her gaze again.

"What you mean?" He was more than curious now.

She shrugged, "I have my ways." Her tone was evasive.

Dean raised an eyebrow in mild interest. "Such as?"

"Curious much?" She quipped.

"Come on, I ain't gonna judge. Hell, I live off credit card scams, since hunting doesn't pay for shit." Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that. "Scams to banks, not people." He explained.

Scarlett gave him an amused look. "All right." She lit a cigarette and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "There's a bunch of dealers nearby, and from time to time, I sneak into their joint, clear their safe, and swipe a couple of items. A third of my CD collection comes from that. They always end up blaming each other. No honor among thieves, right? But no matter how many anonymous tips I send to the police, the cops never seem to bust them. They are either in bed with them, or fucking stupid." She cocked an eyebrow, and gave him a sneaky smirk. "Not to mention all the bucks I get from pickpocketing vamps before staking them. Which, by the way, is what I did last night to the one you pummeled. And that's not even the end of it."

He couldn't help laughing at the tale. It was ingenious, and he surely wanted to hear more. "Spill." He said, trying to keep his composure. God, the way she was leaning on the counter, the way her crossed arms propped her rack up and made her cleavage show more skin, the way she tilted her head whenever she took a drag from her smoke. Her facial expressions, so full of mischief. It was driving him insane. When she turned around to drop the ashes, he sat down so he could hide his growing hard-on more easily.

"Betting, conning demons, conning some shitty humans, demon fight pits. You name it. Money comes easy when you have super strength, stealth, and can drop four stories without a hitch."

He swallowed hard. "That's fucking badass," his voice was suddenly husky. Well, shit. He hoped she hadn't noticed. He needed to do something, he just couldn't take it anymore. He instantly remembered the fresh clothes. "Uhm- do you mind if I take a shower? Yesterday was a long day, and need a change of clothes. Thanks, again."

"Knock yourself out. There are some towels in the closet behind the door. Just drop everything in the basket. Gonna take it to the laundry room later."

"Awesome." He grabbed the plastic bag, his cell phone, and headed to the bathroom.

Once the door was locked, Dean grabbed a towel, and let the water run before getting naked. God, was he glad to be out of those straining jeans and boxers. He checked the charge of his phone. Yahtzee, 70% was more than enough to play some music. When he found the AC/DC folder, he hit play, and turned up the volume as much as he could. He needed the loud music to conceal what he was about to do, and then stepped into the shower.  _'Let Me Put My Love into You'_  started playing. Well, fuck, ain't that conveniently fitting?

The water was hot, and the pressure was amazing -not like in the bunker, though- but infinitely better than in motels.

He let the water wash over his head and face before placing his left hand against the tiles for support, his right hand began stroking his erection slowly. He groaned softly, taking a glance at the laundry basket, where he could clearly see Scarlett's panties. He wondered if they had been wet before she took them off, and the thought forced him to shut his eyes, and let out a moan as he steadily thrust into his fist. He wanted to finger her, to taste her; he licked his own lips thinking of it, whispering a low "fuck" that soon turned into a moan.

Dean imagined her stripping, moving to the song. He picked up the pace a bit, and groaned a little louder as his head shot backwards. In his mind, she was giving him a lap dance, rubbing all her body against his. Touching him, teasing him. His hips jerked forwards at the mental image, moaning louder this time. His skin felt as if on fire.

He wanted to fuck her badly, wanted to eat her out, wanted to have her mouth around his cock, wanted to bury his face in her cleavage. God, he wanted to see those tits and lick them, he ached to see them bounce above him. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the loud moan he felt building up deep in his throat. He pumped faster, moaning and grunting, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. He hummed thinking of her lips. When he thought of her naked back, and her legs wrapped around him, a long gasp parted his lips.

The image of her, naked and screaming his name beneath him, was driving Dean to the edge, his member throbbing with each pump. He whimpered and gasped. He wanted her on his lap, riding him hard. God, he wanted to have her splayed in the backseat of Baby. His left hand raked at the tiles, he was panting, and his chest heaving. His moans and groans were growing in volume, and coming out more frequently.

He wanted to bend her over the kitchen counter and pound hard into her, wanted to pull at her hair, and lick that tattoo, which still he didn't know what the fuck was. His strokes were picking up speed, his hips jerking erratically against his hand. He wanted her pinned up against the wall. He wanted her right here, right now, in the shower with him, on her knees. He pumped faster and faster until he finally came with a loud grunt that sounded more or less like "fuck"; his left hand pawing at the tiles. He rested his forehead against them, supporting himself with both hands now, trying to recover his breath. At this point, he honestly didn't give a fuck if she heard him or not. Still, he was sure the music drowned his sounds. "Finally," he said with a heavy sigh. He certainly felt much better, he had needed this release for the last fourteen hours.

Once he caught his breath, he washed his hair and showered properly. Now his hair smelled of coconut and vanilla, and mentally laughed at the irony. He knew that as soon as he came out of the bathroom and see her, he would feel aroused again, he had no doubt, but at least, he wouldn't be  _so_  charged.

Dean got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed the plastic bag and retrieved the toothbrush, razor and foam, then proceeded to brush his teeth and shave. He couldn't help feeling amazed and surprised at the gesture. She got someone to get her the stuff for him.

Once he finished drying himself, he put on deodorant and got dressed. Well, damn. She certainly got him the perfect size of underwear and t-shirts. He couldn't help flashing a dirty smile at his reflection in the mirror. She surely must have taken a good glance at him when he wasn't looking.

Using the towel, Dean mopped some spots on the floor where water had dripped. Then picked up his used t-shirt, underwear, and the towel and tossed them into the laundry basket. He stared one last time at his reflection, time to test the waters and see how she reacts.


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, he was instantly met with the smell of tomato sauce and spices, and his stomach instantly growled in evident hunger. It smelled amazing. So she could cook. Damn. He hadn't expected that.

"What you got cooking there?" He asked as he approached her, then leaned against the counter next to her. He wanted to see her reaction, now that he was all shaved and cleaned up. Scarlett gave him a quick glance that seemed casual, but he could tell that she was avoiding looking at him. He didn't need to wonder why.

"Spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, like every Tuesday." She was dipping a piece of bread into the pot, then munched it. She hummed in delight, then noticed Dean was staring at her. "What? You thought I couldn't cook?" She raised her chin defiantly, but she was just messing with him.

"Well-" He began, but she cut him off.

"I was once human, remember? Besides, I learned how to cook when I was twelve. Nothing fancy, but I get by."

He noticed that her eyes were a bit unfocused, then she continued. "My stepdad used to make this recipe fairly often. That, and scones." She snapped out of it and briefly glanced back at Dean. "He was English. He was the epitome of the stereotype, down to the bloody tweed suit, and the five o'clock tea." She put on a fake British accent on that last sentence. "He could look uptight as fuck, but hell, he could punch."

Dean instantly tensed. "Wait, did he- did he hit you?"

Scarlett gave him a look that screamed 'how-dare-you?'. "No! Oh, god no! I saw him fight a couple of times, and he trained me. He was one of the most amazing people I've ever met."

"Okay, sorry for the misunderstanding." He raised his hands defensively, and decided to try to keep the subject going. He wanted to know her more. "What about your real dad? Your mom?"

She served the food, then took the plates to the coffee table. "My mom died in a car crash when I was twelve. And my biological father... Don't know, don't care. He knocked up my mom when she was twenty-six, then left us to go chase ass somewhere else. Then she met Roger when I was almost seven, they married when I was nine. He was all the father I ever needed."

Dean was going to ask some more before she grabbed two beers from the fridge, and turned up the volume of the TV. She started eating, focused on the screen. There she was, deflecting again. Not surprising, considering how personal the subject was, but at least he got some insight about her.

He had to admit it, the food was amazing. During the meal, he mentioned some of the details of his family history. It was only fair after she had mentioned her own family. Still, he had questions, but thought it better to ask them some other time.

Scarlett grabbed the laundry basket and headed to the laundry room. Dean offered to do the dishes, he wanted to feel somewhat useful. He had finished off long before she came back some time later, and while he was waiting for her return, he took the chance to look at her book collection more closely. Some volumes contained detailed information on demon species, some specifics on anatomy and how to kill them. It was impressive, far more detailed than the mostly vague data he and Sam usually had to dig.

One book caught his attention. It was a photo album hidden amongst the sea of books. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. The pictures were old, slightly faded. Some of them were black and white. There was a couple, and a little girl. Dean instantly realized it was Scarlett; she certainly looked like a happy kid. As pages progressed, he noticed that she was older, and several pictures caught his attention. She must have been no older than ten, and she was wielding a sword, and in another picture she had a crossbow. The man in the picture -Dean guessed it must have been her stepfather- was also carrying a sword.

"The fuck?" He muttered to himself. Probably the guy was into fending and hunting pheasants or whatever. English were weird, he concluded.

Wedding pictures, normal pictures. The next pages contained all pictures of her as a teenager. He could see the same spark he had seen in her eyes, but she certainly didn't seem so burdened in the pictures. And again, lots of pictures with weapons. Dean couldn't help snickering at the sight of her in large t-shirts of bands. Pictures with some guy, hugging each other. Boyfriend, for sure. All the pages had the year when they had been taken. The album finished when it reached 1987. Huh, must have been when she turned, if his math was correct.

Dean replaced the album as soon as he heard footsteps outside, and grabbed some other book, acting casual as soon as Scarlett walked in. He really wanted to keep asking questions about her life, especially about her human life, but he figured she'd deflect. So he brought up the next best subject he could think of.

"Gotta say, the clothes fit damn well. How did you know my size?" His smile faintly turning into a smirk; his eyes trained hard on her, purposely empathizing the double meaning behind his words.  _Let's see her try and deflect that one_ , he thought.

Scarlett hadn't expected him to mention anything about that. Was he merely curious, or was there something else behind those words? And judging by the way he was staring at her, and that cocky smile of his, she was almost certain he was flirting. Interesting. Well, if he was expecting her to blush, or get nervous about it, he was so damn wrong. Two could play this game. She tilted her head slightly, eyes squinted just a little, giving him a coy smile. "I'm just  _really_  good at sizing people up." She made sure to pour all the pride she could behind her reply. That was one way of flirting.

Dean had to shift in his chair; the way she had answered got his motor revving once more. "Is that right?" His voice dropped a register, but this time he didn't bother hiding it. If she was indeed flirting, and Dean was almost sure as fuck that she was, he wanted to push enough and see if she said anything about it. Still, he had some reserves about the subject. If she hadn't been a vampire, he would have already had her moaning under him.

She mentally mimicked that cocky smile of his. _Gotcha._ He had indeed noticed her flirting and was totally flirting back. Time to take control of the situation, which in this case meant putting a stop to this little game by throwing a big-time misdirection. That always set the opponent off balance.

"It's a vampire thing." Bullshit, but he didn't know that. Scarlett mentally laughed when she noticed his expression twist from sexy and cocky, to confused and disappointed. She felt like a bitch, but she wanted to study his reactions and whatnot before considering making a move. She could see he was attracted to her, but with her being a vampire, there was a big chance that his flirting was all bark and no bite. It would be absolutely fucking embarrassing if he turned her down.

He merely replied with a obviously disappointed "oh" before she disappeared to bring her laptop from her bedroom. Dean worked on the desktop computer, while she was on her laptop. He asked if he could put some music, and after she said yes, he put on some Metallica. He was on an AC/DC mood, but he knew listening to it would get him in a sexy mood. And that was the last he needed right now.

The next couple of hours were spent mostly in silence. They were still digging the internet for someone that could open a portal.

From time to time, Dean would start worrying and panicking again, and wonder if his friends and brother were fine. He hated not knowing, not being able to even call. And knowing that Abaddon was still out there, was even more worrying. He started tapping his fingers against the table, like he had done the previous night.

"I suppose we gotta find something to punch again." Scarlett said calmly. He instantly stopped, and told her it wouldn't be necessary, but it wasn't true. He just didn't want to bother her. She didn't buy it, but said nothing.

Scarlett had to admit it, she was having a hard time focusing; she just couldn't stop glancing at his arms and torso now that Dean was not wearing his flannel. Maybe he didn't need to punch anything; but she certainly did. Sunset was still half an hour away; and she definitely was going to start her rounds earlier, as opposed to waiting for midnight, like she usually did.

Now the question was, what to do about him? She just couldn't stop her nightly routine and be locked inside researching. Nor she wanted to have him tag along every time she had to go out. For once, she didn't want to put him in dangerous situations, no matter how much he insisted about being a pro at hunting. He was human, period. Also, there was the chance she would run into a possible meal. Detroit had a high rate of crime in this part of the city, and Scarlett had no problem offing murderous -or worse- scum. After getting herself a good bite out of them, of course. And that was something that Dean needn't know, since he most likely wouldn't understand that sometimes, certain type of people deserved to die.

But also, she wasn't sure of letting him alone in her apartment while she was out. It wasn't a matter of trust; but she had the feeling that Dean was the curious type, and the least she wanted was him snooping around her personal stuff. It wasn't about the possibility of him going through her underwear drawer, -that wouldn't bother her that much, she had to admit- but because he may find stuff of her past life that she didn't feel like explaining. She wasn't the opening-up kind of person.

In the end, she decided to have him tag along. There was always the chance of dropping him at Rick's bar if things got complicated during patrol. Then again, maybe the guy wanted to relax and watch TV? Better ask him and see.

Dean definitely wanted to get out of the apartment. Being in closed quarters with her for such long time was making him have all sort of thoughts. Watching her read texts on her computer, while she was too focused, turned out to be almost as arousing as seeing her move around. She had a lot of tics; and in the last three hours, he had watched bite and lick her lips absently, stroke her own throat, crack her neck, twist a finger on her own hair, and stretch her arms up and arch her back. All that, combined with his little mind movie from earlier in the shower, was taking a toll once more. So, of course, he wanted to go out and beat the shit out of something if his desired choice was not available.

After telling him to let her handle things, and to only step in when she saw it fit -which of course Dean tried arguing, -Scarlett disappeared into her bedroom and when she returned, Dean felt his blood rush in the opposite direction of his head. She was striding out of her room in a long black leather coat, open at the front, and she had a sword in her hand, that she then placed in a sort of horizontal belt loop stitched on the lining of the coat, completely hiding it. The view was hot as fuck.

"What's with the sword?" He needed to ask something, anything to break the silence before his mind slipped into dirty mode.

"Handy for everything. Big, small, tough, soft. Plus I like it. I got a couple stakes also." She said while putting away her phone and smokes, then handed him a stake.

Dean was tempted to brush his fingers over hers, but she wasn't gripping the stake on the middle, but by the end of it. It would have been too obvious. He retrieved his Colt M1911 from his jacket, and checked the clipping, then hid in the back of his jeans. She gave him a questioning look; and Dean could swore there was something else behind that stare.

"Helps slow them down before putting them down," he replied with a cocky grin.

 _Fuck_. Scarlett thought her jaw was gonna drop again. The way he pulled out that gun, and had handled it, was one of the hottest things she has ever seen. And she had seen her fair amount of hot things in her long life. Better get out of here before she lost her mind.

* * *

The trip to the graveyard had a bunch of uncomfortable silences between their small chats about creatures and hunting anecdotes. Dean noticed she was too focused this time; her replies were almost absent minded.

After wandering for almost two hours in the cemetery, they ran into a couple of vampires. He went after one and fought for a while before staking it. Scarlett, on the other hand, draw her sword, twirled it in her hand, and beheaded the vampire she ambushed. No fighting it, or anything, Dean noticed. Odd. But what was taking all his attention was how she kept twirling her sword so casually. He instantly remembered the photo album.

"You're good with a sword." He said pointing at it. "How long you practiced?" He hoped the question would bait her.

Scarlett squinted her eyes a bit. "Ever since I was a kid, so that's about over forty years. I have experience with almost all weapons, except for guns. Never needed one, but that doesn't mean I can't use one. One of the perks of vampirism is accuracy." Well, not exactly. Her accuracy came from her Slayer traits.

Dean mentally high-fived himself; she had taken the bait. "Why the hell were you playing with swords at such young age?"

She gave him a side glance. She considered answering his question when, out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. By the time she actually turned to watch, there was nothing there. But she was sure that there had been something a second ago. She frantically started turning around. "Fuck!" She muttered in an alarmed tone.

Dean rolled his eyes. What's with her and deflecting? "Oh, come on, I wanna know!" But when he saw her worried look, he stopped pushing the subject. "What is it?"

"Please don't be what I think it is." She was speaking mostly to herself, then spotted the demon, who was running away when it saw her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She muttered again, then dashed after it.

Now Dean could see the creature as well, and its horns. "The fuck is that?" He asked her, but by the time he finished the sentence, she was already in motion after it. He chased after her.

Jesus, that woman could run. It took him a while to catch up to her; she was jumping inside a sewage shaft.  _Great, another sewer_ , Dean protested; but immediately climbed down. She was standing at the center of it, where the tunnel branched into three sections. She was trying to figure out where the thing had gone.

"What the hell was that?" He asked in a loud voice.

She instantly glared at him and shushed him. "They have really good hearing," she replied in a whisper. He made an apologetic face at her, then gave her a look. She took the hint.

"Grox'lar beast. Very strong, very agile. And they eat baby's heads." She explained, starting to walk into tunnel number three.

"B-babies? As in human babies?" Dean asked in clear horror as he followed her. She nodded in return. "Okay, let's gank this son of a bitch."

"Yeah, not happening. I kill it, you stay put. Okay?" Her voice was a low snarl.

"Like hell, this ain't my first rodeo, sweetheart." He protested, his volume was higher than he had intended. She glared at him again, then clamped her hand over his mouth, pushing him against a wall in the process. She shushed him again. "I'm not gonna repeat myself. Now stay the fuck quiet, and let me do my job." He nodded in agreement; then she released him.

Dean felt every nerve in his body crack with electricity when she covered his mouth. He had wanted to scream and moan when she forced him against the wall. His mind had already gone into overdrive and pictured a whole different outcome. He was hard, and it took him a moment to catch his breath and go after her.

Scarlett could smell the Grox'lar not far away, she stopped for a moment to take off her coat, she didn't want it stained with demon's guts, and once she spotted Dean, she toss it to him. "Hold my coat, please." She asked. He was about to protest, but when she gave him a pleading stare, he just couldn't say no. Still, he pulled his gun, just in case.

They walked about fifty feet of tunnels, her sword at the ready, when the thing jumped at them, knocking them against a wall. The Grox'lar charged at her, then forcefully grabbed her wrist and twisted it until her blade dropped. It had her by the throat, and she was struggling to get free. The thing was clearly much stronger than her.

Dean had his gun trained at the thing, but he didn't have a clear shot, she was in the way. He knew a bullet wouldn't really hurt her, but still, he didn't want to risk it.

Scarlett vamped out right away, drawing extra strength from the change, and managed to get free. As she was getting up, she heard Dean shout for her to stay down.

He had a clear shot now, so he pulled the trigger. Head shot. The beast fell with a loud thud. She instantly morphed back.

She stood up looking from Dean to the Grox'lar, and back again. "Huh. Great aim." She complimented, clearly impressed. He gave him a cocky smile. "I told you it wasn't my first rodeo."

Maybe she had been giving him too little credit. He was good.  _Very_  good. And of course, the sight of him, so focused right after he fired, was quite the view. He looked incredibly hot. Between the fight, and Dean being such a temptation, she was getting hungry and horny. "Let's get out of here," she said as she picked up her sword, then swung it and chopped the Grox'lar's head off. "Just in case. I don't know if bullets completely kills them, I know that neck snapping and beheading do." She walked up to Dean and took her coat off him, pulled out a small piece of cloth and wiped the blade clean. "Thanks. For holding my coat, and the rest."

"No problem, sweetheart." He followed her out of the sewers. Dean could tell that she was having a very hard time admitting he just had saved her bacon. And honestly, he was enjoying it. It had shaken her, possibly in a good way. He also had noticed a change in her expressions and body language, he was sure now that if he made a move on her, she wouldn't back away. The problem was, was he ready to make a move? His musings got interrupted when she asked if he was hungry. Of course he was.

Scarlett led him to a KFC nearby, and Dean could already feel his mouth watering when he smelled the fried chicken. She was more relaxed, he could tell, and would laugh at bad jokes he would tell. She would also, occasionally look at him in a way that had Dean swallowing hard.

When they finally got to her apartment, and after she had poured some whiskey for the both of them, Dean walked up to her and kissed her roughly.

Scarlett was taken by surprise. A fucking great surprise; and she returned the kiss with equal force, if not more. She couldn't help moaning in his mouth.

Everything was going perfect, Dean could tell, until his logic side kicked in once more, breaking away from the kiss. "I-I can't. I just can't, sweetheart. You're-" He didn't want to finish the sentence; and part of him was screaming at himself in anger and frustration.

Scarlett stood frozen for a second, trying to process what had just transpired. Half-horny, and half-hurt, she just stood there. He had chickened out because she was a vampire. She was sure of it. She forced herself to be calm. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening.

"It's okay. I understand. I-I need to get some air." She spun on her heels, muttering a barely audible "and find something to beat to a bloody pulp," as she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean's mind raced, switches flipping in his head until he finally snapped. _Fuck it_. In three long strides, he was behind her; his right hand slamming the door shut, and locking it; his left one grabbing her arm and spinning her around. His lips found hers; he pushed her against the door; his hands gripping her hips tight and pulling her closer. The kiss, open-mouthed and full of tongue, was gaining more and more urgency. Again, she softly moaned in his mouth, and he groaned in reply. God, she felt so damn good. Right now, he didn't fucking care what she was. All he wanted was to feel her.

Scarlett pushed him slightly away, panting. “For fucks sake, make up your fucking mind already!” Her tone was a mix of plea, desire, and annoyance; and her eyes were full of lust. It only made him want her more. He took her words as an invitation, and instantly resumed the kissing, muttering a low “done” in the process. His hands drifted to the hem of her tanktop and pulled it out, then placed them on her bare skin, trailing his hands up and down the length of her back. Her skin felt so damn soft under his calloused hands. When he softly brushed his fingers on her lower back, her hips jerked violently against him, and she let out such a guttural moan that left Dean almost gasping for air. He groaned a “fuck” in return, and instantly made a mental note about the sensitive spot.

If there was one thing Scarlett was not, it was shy. She was someone who had barely any filters when it came to sex, she would always do whatever the fuck she wanted, whenever the fuck she wanted; and in this case, it was the use of too much tongue, -she loved being in charge, to be on top of things-, and she noticed he didn't mind it all. In fact, he was clearly enjoying it; the sounds he was making were proof of it, and absolutely arousing. Her hands were roaming all over his back, softly raking at it from time to time. She could feel him radiate heat and it was driving her insane. Since he had gone for her skin, she decided to do the same, but instead of his back, she chose his chest. She really needed to feel up that chest. Her hands traveled from his back to his biceps, slightly squeezing at them -God those biceps felt fucking amazing- then to his chest. He was humming at her touch, and had now pushed his right thigh between hers; his hard-on grinding against her leg. Scarlett couldn't help groaning, and she felt him smile against her mouth. _What a little shit._ Her hands glided down to his stomach, then slowly lifted the hem of his t-shirt and put them under it; they glided back up, feeling every inch of his skin. His chest felt glorious, and she couldn't wait to actually see him without the unnecessary layer of clothing.

Dean just couldn't stop kissing her; her mouth was like a trap that wouldn't let go, licking, sucking and tugging at his lips, and he fucking loved it. She was bold as fuck, and that was such a turn on. He was surprised and confused when he felt her hands were quite cool, as was the rest of her skin -at least the parts he hadn't touched already. Still, he couldn't help squirming in pleasure when she placed her hands under his t-shirt. In spite of being rough at kissing, her hands were somewhat gentle. He had expected her to scratch at him, but she didn't. He decided to kick things up a notch. One hand trailed from her back to her stomach, then slowly up her chest until he found her left breast. Pressing himself harder against her, he started fondling at it. He couldn't help breaking the kiss and burying his face in the crook of her neck when he felt her hard nipple through the lace of her bra. He breathed a heated “fuck, honey”. She softly snickered at that. Jesus, she was cocky as hell. His fingers fidgeted with the lace before pulling it down just a bit until her nipple was free. He gently twisted it -as gently as his current state of arousal allowed it; and she groaned once more.

He couldn't help kissing and licking her neck, humming in the process. She smelled so fucking great; and the sighs and groans she was letting out made him trail his hand down from her back to her ass and squeeze hard. Her left hand mimicked his own, snaking around his waist, and then squeezed his ass; while the other trailed further down and cupped his erection. He groaned louder, and interrupted his work on her neck to look at her. Her smug smile was enticing, her eyes full of hunger, they carried a level of lust he had never seen before. She held his stare while stroking him. It was absolutely fucking hot, and he certainly needed to get out of his jeans and boxers as soon as possible.

Dean was about to do the same to her, when she suddenly pushed him away. He whimpered in protest, soon being taken over by an alarming realization. _Oh God, please tell me this ain't some sort of payback for rejecting her earlier._ But as soon as she walked past him, she spun around, slowly walking backwards in the general direction of her bedroom. Her eyes and smirk were saying everything he needed to know. She wanted him to follow her; and so he did. Crashing his lips against hers once more, he pushed her into the bedroom until she bumped into the bed.

She managed to not lose balance and fall, then spun the both of them around, and forced him to sit down on the bed. Scarlett immediately straddled him, putting some force into her grinding as she began kissing him again, her tongue forcing his mouth to open, slithering between his lips. Dean's eyes rolled to the back of his head, his moan echoing in the room, and instantly followed by a husky, almost breathless, “you're driving me crazy, babe”. Barely leaving his mouth, she replied an “I know” that was so charged with desire and pride that made Dean dig his fingers harder into her hips.

She was a force of nature that kept coming at him. He grabbed her hips tight, keeping her in place as he rolled his own. She wanted it rough? He was gonna give it to her rough all right. Her mouth began licking its way down until she was on his neck. Dean tensed and flinched. “Uh, don't-don't bite me. I mean, hickeys are fine, just no fangs. Please?” He pleaded in a soft tone. He hated to interrupt her, but he needed to be sure. Scarlett sat up straight for a moment, staring right into his eyes. “Wasn't going to. I don't bite with fangs unless I'm begged to. Not everybody is cut out for that kink.” He sighed in relief before thanking her, then his mind dwelt on her words. Huh, so fangs were a kink? He felt curious now, but he wasn't ready take such a leap. She slowly began nibbling at his neck, gently tugging at his skin., then blew some air on the wet skin. He groaned in response.

“While we are on the subject, there's three things on my no-way-in-hell list. Ass, daddy kink, and feet fetish. Everything else is fair game. Okay?” She lapped at his neck, and he nodded and hummed in understanding. Her urgency kicked up a notch, and she was suckling at his skin and humming, he hands kneading the muscles of his back and neck.

She seemed to be one step ahead of him, and even though Dean was absolutely enjoying that, he also wanted to have some sort of control and show off some of his best moves. He pulled up her tanktop and removed it from her, then tossed it aside. He wanted to look at her, but the room was dark; and no sooner had he protested about it, than she momentarily left him to go turn on the lamp on her nightstand. He whimpered at the loss of contact. When she was within reach of him, he forced her on his lap again, arms around her waist; his eyes fixing on her bra, before he licked his lips and buried his face in her chest; grinding against her. He licked a trail just above the rim of the lace, and she squirmed in his arms and gripped his biceps, humming in clear pleasure. He briefly glanced up at her, smiling that sexy smile of his. Her stare was absolutely predatory, and Dean felt his blood go up another degree. He trailed a finger up her spine ever so slowly -God, the sounds she made when he did were fucking hot- until he found the clasp and unhooked it. His hands glided to her front, and finally removed the bra and tossed it somewhere. He swallowed hard at the view. He had already inferred much earlier that she was kinda busty for her petite body, but actually seeing her bare rack was another whole story. He sure as hell could spend an entire night just playing with her tits.

Dean didn't waste any time and started nibbling and licking at one nipple, while his right hand softly pinched and kneaded the other. His left arm was holding her at the waist; she softly moaned and ground him harder, one of her hands supporting herself at the nape of his neck. Without breaking contact, he glanced up at her and felt his heart skip a beat, and his dick getting even harder. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth agape, panting and licking her upper lip. Her other hand was stroking her throat. It was a view he would never forget. If she was like this with just foreplay... He couldn't begin to imagine what she'd be like once they were actually naked and going at it.

Scarlett was in a state of pure bliss. Not only Dean was fucking hot, but he was also incredibly good at this. And by that, she meant that he clearly wasn't the kind of guy that tried to skip, or power through foreplay and instantly jump to the deed. She hated that. She hated when guys were solely focused on getting off regardless of her own pleasure. She'd had too many of those in the last couple of years. Dean, on the other hand, was incredibly attentive and skilled. He was taking all the fucking time in the world to give attention to her tits, and from time to time he'd touch that hot spot on her lower back. He seemed to be testing out her reactions to his touch on different areas of her body, learning what made her tick, and applying what he'd learn. She mentally thanked God and Yoda for that. It was clear he certainly enjoyed foreplay as well, which meant she would totally go that extra mile she stopped going to years ago. She had a Karma system for sex, good or bad; and Dean was gaining points in the plus column at a fast rate.

She hated to make him stop, but she needed to get him out of that t-shirt. She shifted slightly until she reached the hem of it and lifted it up. Dean took the hint and lifted his arms, interrupting what he was doing. Scarlett muttered an impressed “wow” at the sight of him. He flashed her a cocky smirk. God, that was so hot; he was so incredibly hot. Her hands were roaming all over his chest; one finger tracing the outline of his tattoo. She asked what it meant, and he explained what it was. “Clever.” She replied before leaning in to lick it, and Dean groaned, placing both his hands on her bare back. Now he could make out her own tattoo. It was barbed wire in the shape of the infinity symbol. He traced a finger along its outline; and she bucked against him, groaning and whimpering against his skin. “You like that, don't you?” He teased, smiling down at her as soon as her eyes met his.

“Mmhhmm, wonder how you'd figured that out.” Her look and smile were mischievous. She instantly went for his mouth again; and both groaned as soon as their tongues met. She slipped a hand between the two of them and began stroking him. Dean groaned in reply. “Fuck, sweetheart, if you keep doing that, you gonna make me cum before I'm inside you.”

“Yeah, we don't want that.” She whispered against his lips, removing her hand from between their bodies. He whimpered at the loss of contact.

Dean took a deep breath. That's it, time to blow her mind. He flipped her over and forced her on her back. He knelt on the floor, in front of her, and undid her belt. Scarlett sat up supporting herself on her elbows, an amused expression slowly taking over her features.

He removed her boots and socks, then slowly worked on the fly of her jeans and pulled them down even more slowly, caressing the back of her legs. Jesus Christ, those legs! He glanced up at her, a seductive smile on his face; he could see the urge in her eyes; she was hungry for him. Her chest was slightly heaving in anticipation. He spread her thighs. The sight made him whistle; she threw her head back, rolling her head a bit, teasing him. Her mouth hung open for a brief moment. _Oh god_.

Dean brushed his fingers against her pussy; the lace of her panties was soaked. “Fuck, you're so wet, babe.” He groaned, closing his eyes in the process. He teased her a little more, earning some moans and curses from her, before slipping her panties down. Again, he did it so very slowly; then he threw them over his shoulder. She adjusted her position, spreading a little wider, and smirking at him and cocking an eyebrow, inviting him. She hoped he understood what she wanted.

Fucking hell, this woman was straightforward. She was a spitfire that took no prisoners. He fucking loved that so fucking much. Dean positioned himself between her legs; then began tracing faint circles on and around her clit; and she moaned loudly. His other hand tracing a line from behind her knee, down the back of her thigh, until it found her entrance. He slipped a finger in, pumping slowly, then added a second. He pumped a little more, and finally added a third one; then picked up his pace. Scarlett was breathing heavily, grasping at the sheets. Dean lowered himself; withdrew his fingers, and slipped his tongue in, gently lapping at her, exploring, pumping softly, and then resumed teasing at her clit. His free hand at her hip, keeping her in place.

“Motherfuck- Oh God.” She began saying before her words turned into a loud moan.

He smiled against her skin. “It's Dean.” He casually replied, briefly glancing up at her. She couldn't help laughing at his reply. Her light mood changed; now she was staring at him, completely devouring him with her eyes. God she looked absolutely hot like this. He decided to push her a little further.

 _You like to watch? Watch this_. He straightened up a bit, and with his best sinful smile, he licked his fingers clean, one at the time. Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropped, and the sound that came out of her mouth was almost inhuman. It made Dean groan loud, then he lowered himself once more. Once again, he sequentially slipped three fingers in, while his tongue teased her clit. She was rolling her hips, and they'd jolt from time to time; he had to keep her in place with his free hand.

Scarlett was completely out her mind, drowning in ecstasy. Her hands were carding his hair almost frantically. Never had a man put so much time and dedication into fingering her and eating her out. They usually avoided it, or reluctantly did it hoping to get her to give them a blowjob in return. But Dean was doing everything to satisfy her, he was taunting her, teasing her; and Scarlett was absolutely sure he was enjoying it as much as she was. She sure as hell was going to return the dedication in spades.

She felt intense heat beginning to pool deep inside of her; her breathing -well, the reflex of it, anyways- quickened, and soon turned into heavy pants. Between the stimuli to her clit and vagina, and the sight of Dean eating her out so shamelessly and magnificently, Scarlett was spiraling out of control. She was in a pure state of lust that had her squirming and snaking her body beneath this glorious man. His fingers were pumping faster, hitting her g-spot over and over. He was taking her higher every time he did so, until he pushed her over the edge. Throwing her arms over her head and grasping at the pillow, she arched her back and let out a loud, feral growl-like moan as soon she came. It took her a couple of minutes, that felt eternal, to slowly come back to reality.

“Th-that was... Fuck. Can't even describe it.” She opened her eyes slowly. That had been absolutely mind fucking.

Dean was still kneeling, and as soon as their eyes met, he licked his fingers. Then he grabbed his t-shirt and wiped his face.

 _Unbelievable_. Was he even real? Motherfucker, he had wanted her to see him do that, he was gloating about it; and Scarlett thought, without a shed of doubt, that it was one of the most erotic things she ever witnessed. She scoffed. “You're an asshole, you know?” There was no insult behind her words, he could tell because her smile was full of sheer pleasure. She was totally baffled, and her quip was her way of showing it.

“Can't help it. You taste great, sweetheart.” He smiled as he stood up; and she sat up, then knelt on the bed, instantly going for his belt. She undid it, never taking her eyes off his; her hands quickly unzipping his jeans. Boy, she was so gonna eyefuck him through all the process.

Dean exhaled sharply, and for a moment he forgot his own name. The way she was looking at him, like a predator about to pounce on their prey. The way her fingers brushed against the skin of his stomach. He threw his head back, groaning; one hand grazing her cheek, the other carding her hair. He kicked off his shoes and socks just as she slid his pants down; and he sighed in relief. God, those jeans had been straining his cock for too long. She hummed at the sight of his bulging boxers, her tongue wetting her lips. “Would you look at that.” Her tone was cheeky. She palmed him thoroughly and could feel the fabric was slightly wet with precum. She leaned in to lay soft kisses, while her fingers hooked on the waistband and were pulling the boxers down so very slowly.

Dean groaned, and his hips bucked. “Fuck, babe, that feels so, _so_ good. But that's gotta wait.” His tone was completely laced with lust. And as much as he wanted her mouth around him, he wanted much more to be inside her. In one swift move, he finished dropping his boxers down, kicked them off, knelt on the bed, and pulled her roughly to him. His lips met hers with pure hunger, his tongue licking every bit of her mouth, invading her, exploring her. The increasing sounds of heavy breathing filling up the room was music to both their ears. She gasped in his mouth and pulled him to her so they crashed against the bed; immediately spreading her legs and locking them at either side of his thighs. Her hands were roaming his back and biceps; and she was grinding him and groaning. His luscious lips -God, those lips would be the death of her- were devouring her with such voracity that she couldn't help moaning his name right into his mouth.

 _Fucking hell_. It had sounded more arousing than it had been in his fantasies. It almost caused him to bite her lip hard.

“Do you want me?” His voice was enticing and raspy. He knew the answer, he only wanted to hear her say it, to beg him.

The tip of her tongue quickly brushed his lips. “Of course I do.” He tone was needy. That had been enough for him.

One of his hands trailed from her face down to her entrance, he teased her clit a bit before palming her soaked pussy; then coated his erection with her slick, pumping twice before aligning himself. She couldn't help breathing a soft “fuck” at the sight of that. Dean was driving her insane, fueling her lust to levels she never had reached before.

He positioned himself so as his forearms were supporting him on the bed, on either side of her. One of his knees was flexed, keeping her wide open. Dean pushed in slowly at first, making the two of them groan in pleasure. Scarlett shifted slightly until he fitted perfectly inside, and the two of them moaned at the action. He was filling her up fucking nicely; it felt absolutely amazing to have him inside of her. He remained inside for a brief moment before pulling out. He began thrusting at a slow pace at first, and he could feel her squirming, rolling her hips trying to urge him to speed up. He didn't oblige.

Scarlett was gripping his biceps tight before one hand drifted to his back, and the other to the nape of his neck, forcing him to lower his head so she could lick his jaw. She was craving him the same way she craved blood, she wanted every part of his skin to be in contact with hers. Her teeth gently tugged at his lower lip, her tongue slithered inside, and the way he moaned in her mouth caused her hips to jerk rather violently. Dean quickened his pace just barely, and it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more, she needed more.

“Faster, Dean.” Her words came out in heavy pants, but they weren't a plea, they were a command.

“No.” He said with a smirk before his mouth latched at hers, kissing and licking her lips and tongue with greater urgency. Oh, he wanted to go faster, but the more he denied her that, the more she would beg.

Or so he thought.

Her hands darted to his hips, her calves locking at the back of his knees, then she rolled the both of them in one fast motion until Dean was lying on his back. With her hands gripping his biceps, she began rocking and rolling her hips at the desired pace. “Now that's more likely.” Humming in pleasure, she gave him a dirty look.

Dean hadn't seen that one coming, he didn't think it possible for a girl to have the required strength to accomplish such roll, considering the speed at which it happened, and the fact that she had lifted half of his body fairly easily with her own. Then again, she was no regular girl. His earlier doubts at her for being a vampire were fading rather fast.

The way she was rocking her hips, the pressure they were putting on his own -geez, those thighs were strong as fuck-, the way her breathing was faltering, the way her tits were bouncing above him had Dean moaning and groaning fairly loud and bucking against her.

“You're so fucking wild, Scarl- Fuck, babe.” His words were dragged out between his heavy breathing and his moans.

He let go of her hips and went for her breasts; he squeezed them, kneaded them, and fidgeted with her puckering nipples. The view of her like this, riding him so wildly, was fan-fucking-tastic. He swept her arms from under her body, forcing her to land on his torso. He wanted that mouth badly; he bit and licked until he got more cusses, and his name, out of her sensuous mouth. He felt himself get close to the edge. Now _he_ needed to go faster.

His hands drifted to her back, and rolled her over. His knees forcefully spread her legs apart as wide as possible. He supported himself on the bed with his left hand, while his right hand reached for her clit and started stimulating it. That set her off, and soon enough, she was a moaning mess, bucking her hips, trembling, digging her fingers into his hips and pulling them to hers.

Her outburst had Dean moaning loud, his face contorting in tortuous pleasure as he thrust faster and deeper. He felt her clench around his dick; then, arching her back, she came with a loud “fuck” that soon turned into a guttural moan. The sight of her like this, mouth agape in evident ecstasy, the sounds she was making, and her pussy tight around him triggered his orgasm, a loud grunt parting his lips as soon as it happened. He rode it for a few more thrusts before collapsing on top of her.

"Fuck." He breathed softly, burying his face in the crook of her neck; one hand caressing her face. He was completely fascinated with her. He had imagined she would be wild, but he never imagined she would be so brutal, so raw. He hoped this wasn't a one-time deal throughout his stay.

“Fuck indeed.” She was staring at him, examining every single feature of his. God, he had so many freckles; it made him even sexier. And when Dean tried to roll away, mumbling something about not wanting to crush her, she held on to him tight, keeping him in place. “Oh, I quite like the weight on me, Dean.” She couldn't help smiling.

He couldn't help breathing a tired “Fucking hell.”


	11. Chapter 11

Dean trailed some kisses along her neck before supporting himself on his forearms, his hands at either side of her head, and arching his back just barely to hover above her. His fingers were stroking her messed-up hair; and he was still coming down from his high, so the full body contact felt relaxing. She was staring at him all over; and Dean felt as if he was under a microscope. "What?" He asked in a mellow tone. God, she smelled incredible.

"Nothing, I just quite like the view from down here." Scarlett was feeling up his back muscles and biceps shamelessly. "Damn, Dean, how much do you work out?" Seriously, this man's body was tantalizing, and solidly built just perfectly. The view of his chest was indeed magnificent. He was a hell of a specimen.

He gave her an incredulous look at her first statement, and he certainly liked the compliment. "I don't work out, sweetheart; all the runnin' around gankin' evil things does the job for me." He titled his head, flashing a cocky smile.

 _Wow_. That certainly surprised her.  _Wouldn't mind helping him stay fit_. She snickered at her dirty thought. "That's impressive. Makes a girl wonder." Her tone was full of innuendo.

Dean stifled a cough, pretending to not catch her drift. "Wonder what?" She cocked an eyebrow in response.

He tilted his head slightly, clearly hinting he wanted details. She took the bait. "Oh, you know, how much you can go before you're all good and spent." Her hands were caressing the length of his back and his sides.

He hummed pleasantly; her tone had been so damn sexy, and so it was the way she was touching him. "With the proper breaks, I could go for a good while." There it was, that cocky and sexy smirk of his. "What about you?" Yeah, like hell if he wasn't gonna ask her.

"Lots of stamina on this end. I can go for hours and hours." Time to brag about her vampire perks. "Although, it's been well over a decade since I got to that point."

"Fuck, baby." He buried his head in the crook of her neck. The thought of having an all-nighter with her got him tingling all over. But he definitely wanted to test just how far she could go. He decided to pry about her statement. "You telling me you didn't have one of those nights in over a decade? What the fuck?"

Scarlett shrugged. "Hard to find someone that is not thinking just about their own pleasure. It's already difficult to find someone to hook up with."

Dean's eyes went wide. "You fucking kidding me? Hot babe like you, it shouldn't be that hard."

She laughed at that, then gave him a meaningful look. "Same reason this almost didn't happen." She pulled him closer to lick his lips.

 _Oh_.

"Can't risk going around outing myself. And if I'm going to hook up, I have to out myself. Not gonna fuck a dude and hide that info from him. Besides, I'm very picky."

"So you never lied about what you are?" Dean had to give her credit for her sincerity; most creatures would lie to get what they wanted.

"My first years as a vampire, I would hide that info. Then again, there were a lot of things about myself that I didn't fully understand. Until one night, I was asleep in this guy's bed and he kinda wanted to cuddle. He noticed my body temperature, and the lack of heartbeat. He thought I was dead and freaked the fuck out. Of course he freaked out even more when I woke up and I tried to calm him down, still with no heartbeat. Had to flee the fuck out of there and move to another city right after."

Dean started laughing hard. He knew he shouldn't laugh, but couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, but I can't stop picturing the whole scene. Kinda hilarious." His mind went back to some of her words, and soon he calmed down. He brushed a hand over her arms, indeed they were cool. His hand trailed to her chest. Yup, there was no heartbeat, but her skin there was warm. "Huh. You're warm here."

She gave a sheepish shrug. "Yup, no heartbeat. Our body temperature is that of the room we are in. The only reason my chest is warm is because you're on top of me, sharing your body temperature."

She reached out to her nightstand to search for a smoke, then remembered they were in her coat.

"Interesting." Dean considered what she had said earlier. "Must be frustrating, not being able to point and pick up whoever you want. You could always hook up with another vampire, though."

She scoffed. "No way in hell. I don't do evil scums. And sadly, pretty much the whole vampire population is evil as fuck."

Dean couldn't believe his luck; he had wanted to bring up this subject ever since the previous night. "That's what I don't get. You say they are all evil, and yet you're not. And your blue friend mentioned something about a soul? What's up with that?"

Scarlett took a deep breath, and Dean could tell she was gonna deflect once again. "Please? I'd really like to know." He gave her a sweet, charming smile.

She thought for a moment, looking at some random spot on the wall. She didn't really want to explain it, mainly because people, or good demons, tend to make a big deal out of it, making her look and feel like a fucking big deal. One thing was when it came to the evil ones; those were the moments where she absolutely  _loved_  bragging about what she was, and what she had been. But when it came to people, she didn't like to brag, and no matter how humbly she always tried to explain it, there was always someone looking at her as if she was some big fucking hero. She didn't consider herself that. She didn't like those labels, and the subject of her soul always did that. That's the legacy left by Angel and Spike. Except, they actually had been major league heroes. At least, that's what she'd been told.

She shifted under him slightly. "That subject is gonna require alcohol. Plus I need a smoke."

Dean nodded and rolled off her, he couldn't help biting his lip and making a face at the sight of her walking out of the bedroom completely naked. What a fucking view. When she returned, she was carrying her laptop as a tray, with two glasses, the pack of smokes and an ashtray. "Where's the whiskey?" He asked with a smile.

"In a sec." She put the items on her dresser, then turned on the computer. Dean frowned at that. Better not start researching now. Of course he wanted to find a solution to his dimensional displacement problem, but not right now. She left again, and when she returned, she was bringing an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, and a small bowl with ice.

"What's with the laptop?"  _Please, don't say research, please don't say research._

"Need music." She replied while pulling up a bunch of playlists, then served the whiskey and lit a cigarette. She handed a glass to him.

 _Hell yeah_. "What we gonna listen to?" His smile was broad and sexy.

"Garbage." She hit play, and Dean's smile faded.

"Oh come on! We share a lot of bands; why not put something we both like?"

"If the night ends up being a long one, you'll get to pick." She cocked an eyebrow before lying down next to him, not bothering to cover herself with the sheets.

That worked for him, and instantly he gave her a look, as if waiting.

She took a deep breath. Okay, here we go. "Well, like Shrevis said, vampires don't have souls. When you are turned, part of your soul, the fully good part, if you have it, mostly leaves you and goes to wherever the fuck it goes when you die. Don't know, don't care. Anyways, that part leaves you; but the dark parts of the soul remain in the body, along with the demon soul. That's basically the pure essence of a vampire, and causes all the physical changes. And all the other changes. Pretty much, it becomes  _so_  twisted that all that's left is evil. All the traits you had as human become twisted and heightened. Say you're a love sap as a human. When you turn you're stalkish, obsessive, etc. So pretty much all the bad things become worse."

Dean nodded at the explanation. "Okay, basically bad, bad news." She nodded as well.

"When I got turned, somehow my soul remained with me. I didn't lose all the filters you lose when you're turned. Some I lost, but the most important ones are still there. In a way, I'm still the same me, but at the same time, I'm not. Some things are twisted and heightened, others are not. For example, as a human I had a lot of anger, when I turned that anger became rage, even wrath at times. So yeah, I still have most of my human values, which is why I don't go around killing people." Of course that last bit was partially a lie, but she wasn't gonna go venting that she had a sweet tooth for nasty dangerous humans. Not everyone could understand that an evil human was as dangerous, if not more, than an evil demon.

He took a sip of whiskey. "You know what happened? How did you keep it?" Dean's curiosity was growing by the minute, as well as his understanding of her. She was fascinating, in every way.

She didn't want to talk about this, it was too personal, and she never did personal. "I do, but enough about me. So, how you got into hunting things?"

Dean had seen that one coming from a mile away; she was deflecting again. Maybe it was too much a painful subject? Better drop it for tonight, but not before telling her the story of how his mother had died, and how his dad got into the life, dragging him and Sammy to the path of revenge against the thing that killed her. Much like Scarlett, he didn't want to talk about all the shit that haunted him.

She flinched at the story; it was heartbreaking to learn that someone with no superhuman strength was forced into that kind of life at such young age. Sure, she had trained for years and years before getting called, but she had had mystical powers that had given her an advantage, even at the age of sixteen. Scarlett noticed Dean's expression was sad; and since he was already suffering about being temporarily stranded here, while his brother was sick back home, she decided to knock it off and smoothly try to divert the subject. "Want another one?" She pointed at the bottle of Jack. As soon as he nodded, she rolled away and refilled both their glasses.

Dean took the momentary silence to switch subjects, in case she started asking again. "So, really? Over a decade since you got a proper night?" Okay, he had to admit, this Garbage band was interesting. Not his type of music, but it was definitely setting a sexy mood. Not to mention, the chick sounded hot as fuck.

She lay down on her side, closer to him this time, and propped on her elbow; her right hand softly stroking his stomach and chest. He exhaled heavily at that, basking in her gentle touch.

"Well, like I said, complicated. Also have to factor that I'm insanely picky about what I put in my body." She cocked an eyebrow at him; and he couldn't help smirking in return.

"Meaning?" Dean didn't even bother hiding his curiosity.

"Meaning that just because I'm… hungry, it doesn't mean I'm gonna settle with less than good. Guy may know I'm a vamp, and he may want to bone me oh so bad, but if he's a seven or less, and or he's a tool, then yeah… Not happening." She gave him a meaningful stare; her hand was now just below his navel, slowly making its way up to his chest again. He had covered himself up his hips with the sheets, but still she could notice he was slowly getting hard once more. Good.

Dean flashed a sexy smile at her, "so, basically, you're saying that I'm above a seven, and not a tool." That definitely felt good to hear.

She leaned closer to him, subtly wetting her lips. "Here I thought I had a couple of tens back in the good old days, but you definitely knocked them down to eights."

Dean's eyes briefly went wide before his cocky grin lit his whole face. "Is that right?"

She nodded; he eyes glinting with mischief and desire. "A ten all around. That's how good you're in bed. And I'm not even including how incredibly hot you are. That's a separate ten." She gently raked at his chest.

Dean was gloating at her words, and reached out to stroke her arm. The way she was talking to him definitely got his motor revving again. "You're incredibly hot as well, sweetheart." He leaned in to kiss her; his lips parting hers slowly, and his hand slowly drifting to her ass, pulling her closer.

Scarlett gently pulled away and lit a cigarette. Dean frowned at her action, not liking the loss of contact. But what he didn't know was that it was all deliberate. She had a plan that she definitely wanted to see through. After all, she had put Garbage for a reason, and of course there was that matter of returning favors in spades. Time to set things in motion.

Pretty much like with hunting, seduction and sex were a hunter-prey dynamic; and Scarlett was an expert in that matter; and it all came down to certain steps. First it was the bait.

"Back in the late 80s and up until the mid-90s, it was somewhat easy to find proper sex partners that fit my expectations. Tons of metalheads around with the right attitude and looks,  _so_  eager to hook up with a vamp chick like me. Then the scene died down, and it all became more difficult. I'm lucky if I have sex three times a year. And it's not even good sex." She pursed her lips slightly, but not fully pouting.

"That must be frustrating." Dean's tone was soft and laced with want, and once again he began caressing her skin.

Scarlett mentally grinned mischievously: he took the bait. Not that her story was a lie, but it served a purpose. Time to set the trap.

"Yes, but nothing that a game of… solitary cannot solve. Well, mostly." She raised an eyebrow, and Dean almost chocked on his whiskey.

Was she referring to…? Oh hell, he definitely needed to know for sure. "Are we talking about sexy me time?" His voice was husky, and he was definitely harder now.

"Of course." She didn't even flinch. "The poor arm of that couch definitely received a fair amount of dry humping in the last couple of years."

He totally chocked on his whiskey this time; after his coughing died out, he couldn't help uttering a lustful "son of a bitch."

Scarlett frowned, pretending to not catch what he meant, that his outburst was because of the liquid going down the wrong pipe. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He cleared his throat, trying to picture her riding that couch. An idea crossed his mind. "I'd love to hear a full, detailed depiction of that, sweetheart." Somehow, he seriously doubted she'd get offended by his request. His voice was huskier, and his hand was slowly moving towards her pelvis.

She smiled to herself; the trap had worked perfectly. Time to raise the stakes a bit before complying. Ish.

"I can do something better. I can show you." She gave another lick to his lips.

It took Dean a few seconds to form a proper thought or sentence. His brain was still trying to process the idea of watching her masturbate in front of him.

"Y-you gonna show me?" Suddenly he felt hot. Too hot.

She nodded seductively. "But later. I have something else in mind first." She rolled off the bed and poured more whiskey into her glass, then grabbed an ice cube. She took a swig before kneeling next to him, completely devouring him with her eyes. "On your back, baby."

Dean did as she said. "What you gonna do?" He smirked; his chest heaving in anticipation.

"You'll see. Just relax." She gently stroked his cheek. "No trying to roll me over though," she held up a finger.

"Gotcha." He nodded and rested his arms behind his head.

"Good." She smiled before dipping the ice cube in her whiskey, then leaned close to Dean. "This is not for you, so don't lick it off." She warned him.

 _Oh god_. He groaned softly. She was going to stimulate him with ice. He fucking loved that.

Scarlett gently brushed the ice on his lips, then licked the whiskey off him so very slowly. He groaned louder, followed by an almost silent "fuck".

The song playing was insanely sensual, and it was adding more to an incredibly erotic situation that had Dean's brain already in overdrive.

She moved down to both his cheeks, and when she wetted his jawline and licked it, Dean found himself already panting and gasping. She was taking her sweet time, which made it all more agonizing.

When she reached his throat and licked it so thoroughly, he threw his head back, burying it in the pillow, and letting out a throaty moan that filled up the room. She took the chance to roll her tongue all over his Adam's apple.

Scarlett loved that view so fucking much. That man was exuding sex all over, and she sure as hell wanted to soak in it. She positioned herself between his legs, under the sheets. His erection pressed against her belly. He cussed and groaned some more at the contact as he slowly began grinding against her.

She dipped the cube and rubbed it against his right nipple, then licked the whiskey off. Even after the liquid was gone, she kept licking and nibbling. Dean moaned throughout all the process, trashing his arms against the pillow. Then she repeated the action on his left nipple.

Dean felt as if he was on cloud nine. She was driving him fucking insane; the teasing, the feeling of her skin brushing his dick, the music, everything. Everything felt fucking great. She was torturing him. A great, amazing and hot kind of torture; and all he wanted was to roll her over and fuck her hard, but he knew better. He knew what she was up to, and there was no way he was gonna interrupt her.

She traced a zig-zag on his chest and licked the trail, slowly moving down his torso. He was breathing heavily now, anticipation taking over. She kept tracing patterns and licking slowly, slithering her own body lower as she worked on his chest.

And then, Dean felt them, soft and round and smooth, at either side of his cock, pressing it hard. The sounds that came out of his mouth were almost inhuman. His hips bucked violently; and he began grinding faster.

"Fuck, oh f-fuck. Oh, sweetheart, that feels s-so. Oh God. Feels  _so_  good." He shut his eyes tight, biting his lip so hard that he almost tore his own flesh. He began rocking his hips faster, and his hands flew to her back, pressing her down to keep her in place. "B-baby, I need to see. Oh God I need to see it." He stared at her with pleading eyes.

Scarlett barely lifted herself enough so he could take a peek. He moaned loud at the sight and the feel of his cock pressed between her tits.

"Fuck. T-That's quite a view, honey."

She took at glance down and nodded. "Indeed. But, enough of that." She knelt, detaching herself from him.

"No! Please, babe, leave them there." He reached for her and tried to force her down, but failed.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Told you to behave." She chided him.

Dean tried to protest, but his words were cut by his own groan when he felt the ice just under his navel. She leisurely licked the area, slowly going down, down, down. She stopped where his pubic hair began, then she stood up.

"No! Don't stop, please, sweetheart." His begging only fueled her desire to tease him more.

She rubbed the ice on his inner thigh, licking the whiskey soon after. She did the same on the other. He shifted trying to gain some contact, gasping in relief when he achieved it.

The look on his face was absolutely delicious. So full of desire, of lust, of frustration. He was on the edge, she could tell. He kept muttering "please" over and over again, bucking and shifting to increase the friction. It was the hottest thing she has ever seen. Oh yeah, she had him right where she wanted him.

She picked a new ice cube, one that didn't have any alcohol on it, and softly ran it along his erection. His hips jolted, and the string of curses and pleas and sounds that came out of his mouth were her cue to send him over the edge.

Scarlett placed her glass of whiskey on the floor. Positioning herself once more between his legs, she began lapping gently at its head, her hand softly stroking its base. She then licked its underside before finally, and slowly, taking him all in. Dean never stopped gasping and groaning.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, guiding her head up and down. God, she felt amazing around him. He was moaning loud, his breath coming out hot and heavy. She was humming against him; one hand was stroking its base, the other on his hip, keeping him in place, and her tongue was teasing him. He began grinding faster against her; his moans gaining volume. His face contorted in pleasure; his hands grabbing her hair and guiding her. Her pace quickened until he couldn't take it anymore. A guttural groan parted his lips as soon as he came.

Scarlett helped him ride his orgasm; her mouth never stopping; pumping until the last drop left him. She slowly sucked until he was out of her mouth.

He was still breathing heavily when he barely lifted his head to look at her. And then he almost lost it once again: she picked up her glass and took a swig, swallowing both the whiskey and his cum in one go.

He threw his head against the pillow, muttering a low "fuck". She grinned at him before lying next to him. "You liked that?" She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it anyways.

He nodded weakly, reaching to her and pulling her to him, to his arms, but she resisted. He gave her a questioning look.

"Sorry, hotshot, I don't do romance." She traced a finger along his face.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Skin on skin has nothing to do with romance, sweetheart, I just like how your body feels against mine. But hey, your call."

Scarlett pondered the idea for a moment before giving in. "Okay, if that's the reason, I'm all for it." She replied before lying on his chest. Yeah, it definitely felt good.

Dean was completely spent, so he merely caressed her, despite how much he wanted to fuck her once more. After half an hour of chit-chat about bands and whatnot, he finally fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning Scarlett woke up to the sound of soft moaning in her left ear. Dean, who was still sleeping and clearly having a wet dream, was spooning her. He had one arm pillowing her head; the other resting on her side, hand cupping a boob; and his hard-on right between her legs. He was softly, almost imperceptibly, grinding her. Talk about a nice wake up call, she mused, despite the fact that it was 9am. Too fucking early to wake up, but not too early to have morning sex. There was no such thing as "too early" or "too late" when it came to sex.

After a round of moaning and groaning, they fell asleep again.

When Dean woke up, it was past one, and he was alone in bed. Pity, he wouldn't have minded having another go. He looked around the room and spotted his clothes on a chair. After getting dressed and going to the bathroom, he went to the living room, where he found the redhead sipping up some coffee while on the phone. Judging by her facial expression, she was clearly upset. Once she finished the call, she glanced up at him, uttered an emotionless "morning", and went back to the website she was browsing.

"Morning, sweetheart," he greeted her before noticing the coffee maker was empty. "You drank all the coffee?" He asked, pointing at the mug she was nursing, then at the machine.

"This isn't coffee." She raised the mug and made an apologetic face.

"Then what the f-" He realized mid-question. "Gotcha. You mind if I make some?"

"Not at all, but I was gonna order some food. Not sure what I want." Her attention returned to the screen.

"In that case, I'll take whatever as long as it ain't some vegan shit." He sat opposite to her, trying to read her features. He had expected, or hoped, she'd make some kinky remark about last night and this morning, but she didn't.

Scarlett laughed at the comment. "Right. Do you see me having anything remotely vegan? I'd rather get a tan. And as you know, a tan can fucking kill me."

After ordering tacos off a joint nearby, Scarlett explained to Dean that Shrevis found a reliable witch, but he was having a hard time reaching her; but that wasn't the main problem. Apparently, said witch liked charging big money, and unlike the ones in Craigslist, this one was the real deal when it came to powerful magics.

During lunch, they discussed options; either they found another one, or they relied on this one once they got in touch with her. But even if they went with the second option, there was the not-so-small matter of the payment. Scarlett had no problem paying for food, but she wasn't gonna pony up anything over 500, and something told her this witch was charging in the four digits. She made it clear to him, and he understood.

Dean was considering the options; looking for someone else might take some time, and he certainly didn't want that; he wanted to get home ASAP. Sammy needed him, and Dean wasn't about to let his brother down. The situation with Ezekiel was bad enough, considering Sam was in the dark about it. So paying some greedy witch bitch was the best course of action. Now the problem was where the fuck would he get that kind of cash? And then it hit him.

"Know any bars with pool tables? Noticed yours doesn't."

"Yeah, there's a lot around. Why?" She asked, mildly confused.

"Gonna hustle all the pool I can. I'm a pro at it, sweetheart." He gave her a charming smile.

Scarlett squinted her eyes. It was a good idea, provided that he was as good at it as he claimed he was. Somehow, she had no doubt he could pull it off, but it would be a slow process, especially when they didn't know how much this witch would ask for.

"Okay. Sounds good, and I may be able to help with that." She lit a cigarette once she finished her food.

That piqued his curiosity. "How? Hustling pool too?" Now that was something he sure as hell would love to watch. Scarlett bending over the pool table? Yeah, he definitely wanted to watch that.

"Sure. I can do that, but I was thinking about drinking games. Those I know I can totally win." She flashed a grin at him.

"Oh?"

"I have an unfair advantage. It takes me obscene amounts of alcohol to get me remotely drunk. I can go through two entire bottles of whiskey before getting somewhere in the vicinity of drunk. It'd take much,  _much_  more to get me completely wasted."

"The fuck? How?" Dean had to admit, he would love to watch that too.

"Hello? Vampire. We have extremely high tolerance." She bragged.

"Nice. So it's settled then." Dean added, rubbing his hands together.

The rest of the afternoon, at least until sundown, they spent it watching TV and trading hunting stories; no mentions of their sexcapades whatsoever. And there it was again, that show she had been watching the other night, some vampire show that, for what he had seen, didn't match those from this reality. But then again, movies and TV never portrayed the real thing. After some prodding, she finally admitted why she liked it. It wasn't just about some dude she found hot, but about how they held some sort of humanity, something that was not the norm in this world. Dean was barely paying attention to the television, he was browsing the internet and the various sites that were quite informative regarding creatures. Werewolves were ugly as fuck, he noted. The amount of lore was fucking impressive.

"That's the precious I'm after." Scarlett interrupted his reading. "Exactly like that, down to the color."

He looked up. It was a light blue Camaro, definitely late 60s. "Not bad, not bad at all. But gotta ask. A convertible? Really? It's not like you can enjoy sunlight, right?"

"No, but I like it." She shrugged. "It may take me some years, but I'll get it."

Once sundown set, Scarlett decided to do some early patrolling, since later they were going to hit some bars to set their plan into motion. Dean had insisted to tag along, but she refused, saying that it would slow her down. Besides, she was gonna visit some other demons to see if she could find another witch just in case, and unlike Shrevis, these fuckers wouldn't be so willing to give out info. He reluctantly accepted, and before she left -since she would be gone for several hours- she wrote down her cell phone on a paper, just in case. You never knew what could happen.

Dean put the slip of paper inside his wallet before locating the land phone almost hidden under the TV set.

He did the normal stuff one would expect from someone being left alone in somebody else's place: he snooped around like a champ. From her underwear drawer, to closets, to a chest he hadn't noticed the previous night in her bedroom. He whistled to himself at the sight of the array of weapons. Crossbows, swords, maces, axes and whatnot. Some items were of exquisite beauty, and clearly old. Medieval old.

* * *

Scarlett had expected it, these motherfuckers weren't being helpful. Not that she was asking nicely, of course. But she thought that breaking them would get her some answers. She had a beef with these demons, and vice versa, so everything went down as she had assumed: they jumping her, she kicking their asses, then straight to torture; but none had any info, but at least, she got rid of them. Each showdown had resulted with her getting some lesser wounds, and demon blood, and her own, stained her t-shirt. Not that she was planning on wearing this to a bar, but either way, she hated having to do laundry so frequently.

Around 10 pm, she went back home to shower and dress properly, and found Dean on the couch watching TV and finishing off some left-over tacos from earlier.

"Hope you don't mind," he asked with his mouth full, beer in hand, and clearly hungry.

"Not at all. Listen, I gotta shower, and then we are off, okay? So be ready." She took off her jacket, and the blood –hers and the demons'- could be seen clearly.

"What happened?"

"Usual drill, nothing to worry about." She waved a dismissive hand and disappeared into her bedroom.

Dean frowned, trying to figure out what was going on, then his mind wandered off when he heard the sound of water running. He had hoped she'd hint something about a hot, shared shower, that may or may not end in sex, but alas she didn't. So now he was sitting there, once again thinking about what was going on in that bathroom, and unable to do anything about it.

Once she was done, she got into her bedroom once again and picked up what she would wear. She wanted to achieve a certain look, but the lack of a reflection against a mirror certainly made things harder, but then again, she didn't need no fucking mirror to know that her outfit of choice would accomplish what she had in mind. She only had to look down to know that that particular push-up bra and that lacy tank-top would give away as much cleavage as it was possible without falling into the 'indecent exposure' category. She picked up a short leather jacket, a small hand bag –god, those were inconvenient as fuck, but hell she needed some place to put her smokes, keys and wallet- and exited the room. "Okay, good to go. Let's roll."

Dean almost lost it when he saw her. She was all in leather, save for her tank-top; from her stiletto boots, to her leather jacket, and of course, those tight low-cut leather pants that accentuated every damn curve and made her ass look absolutely sinful. His mouth fell open when his eyes set on her cleavage. Fucking hell, how on earth was he going to get through the night with her looking like this?

Scarlett smirked and cocked an eyebrow at his reaction. "Yup, definitely made a good choice." She said almost to herself.

Her words woke him from his brief trance, his eyes meeting hers. "What? You look- damn. You look  _fine_." He said with a drawl in the last word, clearly laced with desire.

"It's the best I could come up with for distraction." She replied matter-of-factly, and leaning closer to him. The scent of her perfume had him wetting his lips absently.

"What's that?" He asked while walking after her out the door. God, he wanted to grope that ass oh so shamelessly.

"No offense, but men's brains fly out the window when they have something like this in front of them, making it stupidly easy to con them." She swept a hand along her body.

"Can't argue with that, sweetheart." His voice dropped low and barely hid his growing lust. He wanted to fuck her right there in the elevator, but he could tell that in spite of her flirty tone, she wasn't exactly leading him on. Well, she was, but clearly her focus right now was their plan to get the cash.

Scarlett smiled to herself; briefly glancing at his bulging jeans when he wasn't looking at her. Maybe the night would end like the previous one, she mused.

Since she would be drinking a whole lot, they weren't taking her car, but instead took a cab to the bar, the first of three they would be going tonight.

Dean noticed this bar was the type where all sorts of betting and fights usually took place. He almost felt uneasy for her, considering all the things the patrons were saying about her amongst themselves, but then again, she was not a helpless human girl. Scarlett pointed at a small table on the far end, and sat on the tall stool upon reaching it. He sat beside her, taking a glance now and then at her cleavage once she removed her jacket.

Her eyes were trained on the opposite site of the room, where a group of men and women were whooping at two men drinking. In the middle of the room, there were a couple a pool tables, and Dean was examining the players. He instantly spotted one that was, in fact, hustling at pool as well. Better avoid that son of a bitch.

She leaned closer to him. "We gotta do it carefully, can't be too obvious."

For a moment, his mind dived into the deepest gutter, but soon he realized what she meant. "It ain't my first time hustling pool, or conning, babe. I know what I'm doing." He flashed her that cocky smile of his. She raised her hands in surrender, then headed to where the drinking game was taking place.

Dean followed suit. There was no fucking way he would miss that.


	13. Chapter 13

Scarlett was pretending to be somewhat buzzed; it would be stupid to show she was nowhere nearly affected by the alcohol. Yet. The biker guy she just defeated wasn't too happy about it and left in a hurry, muttering a 'lucky bitch' as he stumbled away from the table.

Dean watched amused, she had downed seven shots of whiskey as it had been water and was bragging about it and taunting others to challenge her. If it wasn't for the fact that they were here to con a bunch of suckers, he would have totally challenged her just for the fun of it.

Three more rounds, and she was up to 300 dollars, and every time she'd win she would wink at him in victory. Okay, this was turning out to be much more fun, and hotter, than he had thought.

She decided to drop the game, and pretending to be drunk, she returned to their table, which miraculously wasn't occupied. She retrieved the cash from inside her cleavage and showed it to Dean. He eyed the action and briefly closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Then she handed him the money, minus her initial deposit, and pointed at the pool tables. "You're up."

 _You don't say._ Of course, he was thinking about the situation in his pants, but that would have to wait; he walked up to a couple of college guys, pretended to be drunk, and challenged them. These dudes were terrible, and Dean knew hustling them would be piece of cake.

Scarlett took this opportunity to sit and relax, and, of course, to examine Dean. He was eye candy all around, and watching him shoot pool was another show itself. The way his muscles rolled under his clothes, the way he moved with utmost confidence. From time to time, he would glance up and throw a sexy smirk her way, or wink. Yeah, she was more than sure that the night would end up in sex.

After three rounds, and a couple of butthurt frat douchebags, Dean was up to 400 total. It would have been more if said dudes hadn't been such cheapstakes. He sat next to her and ordered two whiskeys.

"Not bad, and we still have two more joints to visit." His tone did nothing to conceal his flirty mood, and his hand rested on the small of her back, thumb gently rubbing her tattoo. He couldn't help smiling when she jolted a little.

She eyed the glasses, then smiled at him. "I gotta hold off those, at least until after we are done with the third bar." She took a drag off her cigarette without taking her eyes off him.

"You trying to tell me something?" He couldn't hide his smirk.

Scarlett shook her head, but it was clear that she was implying something. "Finish your drinks so we move on."

The second bar wasn't a bust, but it didn't result in big winnings either, but every bit helped, nonetheless. Although, the innuendos between the two of them had been less subtle. Dean only made about 150 out of that bar, and for some reason, there hadn't been drinking games.

On the third bar, things got a little better, and after three rounds of pool from him, and four rounds of drinking from her, they were up to 750 dollars. Dean could see that she was buzzed, which, considering the amounts she drank, it was interesting, to say the least.

Between drink and drink, they played some pool, just to have some fun. And of course, more often than not, he missed a shot because she was leaning on the table showing off her cleavage; which in turn, resulted in him standing right behind her when she was bent over and shooting. Scarlett didn't mind at all feeling his hard-on pressing on her ass, or his hand subtly caressing her hips while whispering something about teaching her some proper shooting techniques. Not that she really needed them, but it was a nice excuse to get his hands on her and brag about his skills; and by the looks of it, she was enjoying it as well.

Boy, would he have loved to do her on that pool table…

Once back at their booth -which was in a semi-dark corner- things started to gradually heat up. Scarlett was now slightly drunk -so was Dean- and to his delightful surprise, she was a horny drunk.

She was sitting so close that she was almost on top of him. "Anyone ever tell you you've got a body built for sin?" Her lips brushed his earlobe, and one hand was placed on his thigh, gently caressing it.

Dean swallowed hard. "Once or twice. Why you ask?" His tone was full on sexy, and if she wanted to play this game, so would he.

"No reason." She breathed before teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. He went for the kiss, slow, and deep, and full of tongue. God, she was driving him insane. Her hand slowly glided to his crotch and palmed him thoroughly, then began massaging him gently through his jeans. A moment later, she was sitting on his leg, subtly grinding against it.

He groaned into her mouth, then momentarily broke away from the kiss to look at her. His expression was full of desire and wonder. "What are you doing?" He sounded almost voiceless.

"You want me to stop?" She pursed her lips, almost pouting, but her eyes were full of lust.

"Fuck no." He resumed the kissing, then placed her back into the seat, immediately unbuckled her belt, and unzipped her pants. His hand slid inside and reached for her entrance; she whimpered in reply and instantly spread her legs wide and started grinding against his hand. He hummed when he felt her warm and wet; his thumb was working on her clit, and two fingers were brushing her folds gently. Dean could tell she was trying really hard to not make any noise at all, and somehow she was pulling it off.

He had been so into the moment that he had completely forgotten they were in a public place. Sure, they were concealed by the booth and the table, but still, he had to force himself out of his lustful trance, and stopped what he was doing to her. His breathing was a bit erratic; and he ran a hand over his mouth, trying to calm down.

"We should get out of here." He suggested in a husky tone. Scarlett nodded vigorously, zipping her pants and doing her belt. As soon as they grabbed their jackets, they hurried to the door.

Fortunately for them, her place was some blocks away; and from time to time, they would stop and make out against some random wall; and once inside the elevator, things started to get out of control. If the ride wasn't just to the third floor, they would have had sex right there. She was still fumbling with the keys -both when opening and closing the door- when Dean started to undo her pants, and as soon as she stopped working on the damn door, he flipped her around and pushed her against it, and then he dropped them along with her panties. Their jackets also flew somewhere in the room.

His hand palmed her ass leisurely, feeling every inch of it; pressed up against her, he was murmuring how much he wanted to nibble it, which of course he did right after. Her little gasps and groans were getting him harder and harder. He stood up and, once more, he pressed his whole body against hers.

Scarlett was on fire; he was working her up so fucking much, and feeling those hands getting under her top was absolutely blissful. She slipped a hand behind her, grabbing the back of his neck; then his hands slid down to her stomach. His mouth was working on her neck, suckling and kissing and leaving little marks; his breath, hot and heavy was making her lose her mind.

Dean undid his jeans and shimmied them down. "It's okay, sweetheart, I remember your list of turn-offs. Not gonna do any of that," he instantly whispered when she looked over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked at him; then he turned her around and helped her out of her boots, pants and underwear. Feeling up her legs, he dropped to his knees, then swung one of her legs over his shoulder, gave her the dirtiest smirk, and dived in.

She gasped when she felt the tip of his tongue prodding and teasing, her head making a faint thud upon hitting the door. Her hands were carding his hair, and the pleasure she was feeling was augmented by all the alcohol she drank earlier; her moans were throaty and low, and every now and then, she would utter an "oh god", or simply his name.

He picked up his pace, and added three fingers; his tongue was now on her clit, and Dean would nibble it at times. The sounds coming out of her were music to his ears, and so were her threats about fucking him until he passed out. That outburst surely made him laugh a bit. He could tell she was getting there for the way her legs were trembling, so he started pumping a little faster, and added more pressure on her clit. He couldn't contain a moan -half pleasure, half pain- when she dug her nails so hard into his shoulders; and a moment later, she was coming undone.

Scarlett was still feeling her orgasm, when he suddenly stood up and bent her over the kitchen counter; and the moan she let out when he pushed in hard, had Dean cussing and groaning. He was putting all his weight on her, and for an instant, he thought she liked it, but then she started to struggle a bit.

"What's wrong?" He asked while slowing down.

"Rather be facing you." Her words were dragged. She didn't have a problem with the position itself, but there was something about Dean that urged her to  _not_  want to be in that position; and that was his body. She wanted to look at him, to feel him under her touch, to examine every gesture during sex. "I like watching you." She added, looking over her shoulder at him and licking her lips.

He took the cue and momentarily pulled out; Scarlett turned around and hopped on the counter, and pulled him to her. Without a word, he grabbed her hips and pushed in again. Inch by inch, and once he bottomed, he began thrusting harder. She took off her tank-top and bra; and when Dean saw this, he buried his face in her chest.

She didn't waste any time either and removed his shirt and t-shirt. Her hands were roaming his back, feeling the heat coming off his skin. This man was an absolute delight to feel, to hear, to kiss, and to fuck. He brought up levels of lust she never felt before; he made her feel true hunger. Not for blood, of course, but for pleasure.

He was completely hyped, one hand on the middle of her back, pulling her to him; the other was on her ass and grabbing her really tight as if holding on for dear life. His groans and moans were loud, but somewhat muffled by her breasts. The way she was meeting every thrust and also the way she was scratching his back, was pushing him to the edge. Her moans were louder than his, and probably would be heard in the hallway and draw unwanted attention, so Dean kissed her. Not just to drown their heated sounds, but also because he was yearning for her mouth, and when he felt he was about to come, he buried his face on her neck, just as one thumb went for her clit. And then he let himself go, biting on her soft flesh to contain the loud grunt he felt building up deep in his throat. She followed suit right after him; and Dean kept going thought their orgasms until his legs stopped shuddering.

He collapsed on top of her, and one of her hands was now on the counter, behind her, supporting both their weights; the other was caressing his back, trying to soothe the skin where her nails had caused some damage. He didn't bleed, but the skin was definitely red.

For a moment, all that could be heard was their heavy breathing; and being like this, nested in her arms and legs gave Dean an odd sense of peace.

"Fuck, sweetheart." It was all he could say while trying to catch his breath, and lifting his head just barely to look at her; who nodded in reply.

"We should go to the bedroom, kinda wanna lie down on something soft," she suggested while gently pushing him away from her.

"Sounds like a plan." He grabbed his clothes and headed to her room.

Scarlett grabbed her clothes, her smokes and a bottle of whiskey and followed him. She smirked to herself. Boy, she was so gonna give him a treat he would never forget.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean was laying on the bed, sprawled and heaving, and watching her go about her business. For someone that wasn't human, she certainly was meticulous about tidying her clothes. It was clear for him that she was just giving him some time to get ready for round two. Although, he would have preferred she was in bed as well. He wanted to feel her, to touch her, to have her close to him.

"What, you not joining me?" He couldn't help himself.

"In a minute." Scarlett replied while setting her laptop and pulling a bunch of playlists. She heard him get up, and stifled a laugh.  _Someone's getting impatient_ , she thought amused.

Dean cornered her when she turned around. "So... You gonna let me pick the music this time, or what?" He leaned closer until their lips almost touched.

"After." She said with a smirk, just like the previous night.

"Hey, that ain't fair, sweetheart, you promi-" Her index finger was pressed against his lips before he could finish.

"It's gonna be worth it, I promise." Her tone was a mere whisper, but it carried such a level of sexuality that forced a sigh out of Dean. Those green eyes of hers seemed to pierce right through him and pull him into a sea of lust he certainly wasn't gonna refuse.

Dean took a second to process the words, licked his lips and then hers before raising an eyebrow. "It better be," he jested.

Scarlett nodded and soon was gently pushing him towards the bed, while teasing his mouth with her tongue. "Lie on your stomach," she said when he hit the bed with the back of his knees.

Dean's expression changed, concern now on his face. "Not gonna do anything weird, are you? 'Cause I didn't sign up for that, sweetheart." His tone was resolute. "You have your 'don'ts', and so do I. And it happens to be the same thing, so if you're planning what I think you're planning, that's a big fucking no."

"Eww no, that's not what this is about, stud." She gave him a reassuring smile, her hands trailing his chest, trying to make him comfortable again. "I promise, you will like it. A lot."

Dean relaxed at her words and at that sexy and conspiratory wink she gave him; then he lay down on the bed, just as she had asked, bracing the pillow and looking at her over his shoulder. "I'm trusting you, Red, don't disappoint me."

Scarlett pulled up the playlist she wanted and hit play. Nine Inch Nails'  _Closer_  started playing. If there was a song that could instantly turn her into a horny mess, that would be it. She circled the bed until she was behind Dean, then slowly began crawling on top of him until she was sitting on his ass.

_(Help me) I broke apart my insides, (help me) I've got no soul to sell._

_(Help me) The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself._

He hadn't been paying much attention to the song, his focus was absolute over the woman climbing his body, but when he actually paid attention to the lyrics, he had the urge to bury his face in the pillow and groan loud.  _Oh my fucking god._  He didn't know whether he said it or thought it; and he didn't really care.

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

She was almost completely covering his body; her breasts pressed hard against his back while her mouth was nibbling and licking the back of his neck, going from shoulder to shoulder, and then blowing some air in her wake. Dean was positively sure he could feel her hard nipples brushing his skin, and soon enough he was cussing and groaning softly.

_I want to feel you from the inside._

Her hands were traveling from his wrists to the sides of his torso in a tortuous slow motion, her fingertips barely touching his skin, tickling in such a way that Dean's hips bucked up, followed by a low and drawled moan.

"Fuck," he breathed, forehead resting on the pillow, eyes shut in pleasure, hard-on pressed against the mattress.

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

Scarlett smiled in satisfaction at his little outburst; her hands trailing back up to his shoulders, where she left them. Now she added a subtle grinding to her ministrations, and as soon as Dean felt her dampness against his skin, he buried his face once more, moaning very loud this time.

_My whole existence is flawed._

"Remember I told you I was gonna show you how I masturbate? Well, this is it. Except this feels much,  _much_  better than the arm of that couch.  _You_  feel much better." Her mouth was inches from his ear, and that little moan she had slipped had his hips bucking once more, and his breathing quickening.

_You get me closer to God._

He wanted to say something, to tease her in any way, but before he was able to form any thought at all, he felt her grind a little harder, accentuating her moves to the music, and so his words were completely lost, replaced by a series of groans and moans.

_You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings._

Her hands were gripping his biceps for leverage, and now she was softly moaning. Her clit pressing hard against his tailbone with every move. Between the song, his sinful sounds, and the feel of his body beneath her, Scarlett felt as if she was in paradise. This was what heaven must felt like.

_You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything._

Dean was losing his mind, and from time to time, he would look over his shoulder, and damn if he didn't find the view absolutely hot. The way she was moving, the way she was moaning, the way she was enjoying; and the mere thought that it was his body what was doing this to her had him cussing in no time and raising his ass to meet her and give her even more contact for her pleasure.

_(Help me) Tear down my reason, (help me) Its' your sex I can smell._

Her moans were growing louder, and her pace had picked up slightly, but not enough to send her over the edge just yet. Scarlett wanted to drag this out, to make it last as long as she possibly could. Not only for her own sake, but because she knew what this was doing to him. She could see the ecstasy in his eyes every time he looked at her. She could feel the heat coming off of him in waves, heat that she naturally seek due to her lack of body temperature. She loved feeling warm things against her body – especially a man.

_(Help me) You make me perfect, help me become somebody else._

His sounds of pleasure were fueling that lust that was consuming her, and the sight of his glistening back was making her almost drool. That glorious back. It was a view she could never get tired of seeing. The way he was moving, giving her more friction, trying to get her what she wanted... Her body was asking for more, so she sped up.

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

The increasing wetness on his lower back was overwhelming. He wanted to flip her over and eat her out, or fuck her out of her mind. He couldn't exactly decide, maybe both. Yes, certainly both. But he also wanted this, he wanted to be witness of her self-pleasuring. Her moans were louder, and now Dean could also hear the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and soon his groans of pleasure, and heavy breathing, joined the cacophony of sounds.

_I want to feel you from the inside._

She was close now, and every time she looked at him, and how he was also getting off on this, it brought her closer to her goal.

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

"Come on, sweetheart, come for me." Dean's voice was laced with desire, the words slurred, coming out between pants and groans. He tried to reach behind and lend her a hand, but the grip she had on his arms made it impossible.

_My whole existence is flawed._

His words spurred her on, forcing her pelvis to rub faster and faster against him, and soon enough she was coming undone, moaning loud. Not as hard as it had been when he had been inside, but nonetheless, it was a great orgasm.

_You get me closer to god._

Scarlett collapsed on top of Dean, who took this chance to get out from under her, flip her over, and get on top of her. He wanted to get off, he  _needed_  to get off; the show had left him completely horny and charged, and by the look of pleasant surprise on her face, she wanted it as well.

He pushed in swiftly, and began thrusting fast and hard; his lips soon meeting hers in a hungry and sloppy kiss. Moans and groans were drowned by the other one's mouth, and Dean wasn't sure how long he would last. It had been a fucking miracle to not come all over the mattress due to the friction he had been getting while she had been on top of him.

"That thing you did... Unbelievably fucking hot, babe." His words were cut off by his moans. "You were right. Totally fucking worth it." His mouth went for her neck, kissing and licking and biting.

The pleasure she was feeling was overwhelming, her pussy was oversensitive, so another orgasm was steadily building up; and now Dean had picked up his pace and was pounding mercilessly into her, one hand reaching between their bodies and heading to her aching clit. He didn't have to do much before she was screaming his name as she came.

A few thrusts later, and he was coming hard as well, just as the music was ending. Of course, neither of them realized that the song had played twice throughout the whole thing.

He remained on top of her for a while, trying to catch his breath before heading to the bathroom. Considering the amount of alcohol he had drunk, he was surprised he didn't need to go earlier. When he returned, he found her sitting against the headboard and casually drinking from the bottle of Jack.

"Seriously?" He pointed at the bottle while trying to contain a laugh. He didn't succeed.

"What? I can hold my liquor like the best of them," she waved the bottle, "but you already knew that." That coy smile she gave him sent electricity down his spine, and if he hadn't been so damn tired, he would have gone hard again.

He took this chance to change the playlist and put on some Def Leppard, and then lay down next to her, his eyes roaming her body; she didn't seem a bit tired, but when he searched in her eyes, he could see that there were signs of it, but nowhere near his level of exhaustion. Dean also had to marvel at how chill she was; in his experience, people tend to get under the sheets after sex -just like he did moments before- but not her; she seemed to lack any sign of self-consciousness, and in all honesty, he liked it a lot.

"You started drinking like this after you were turned?" Fuck, that sounded condescending as hell. "Sorry, not judging, god knows I'm a heavy drinker myself. I mean, I'm just curious." He corrected himself as soon as she glared at him.

Scarlett relaxed. "No, earlier than that. Two years before turning, more or less. This life has a way of getting darker and darker. Besides, alcohol helps numb the physical pain when you're fighting strong creatures."

Dean sat upright in one swift move. "What?" Did she imply what he thought she implied? "You were fighting things  _before_  being turned? Why would you do that?" He considered the probable reasons. "Revenge? That was it, right? Someone you loved got killed by something?" It had to be, there was no other explanation.  _Her boyfriend, maybe?_  He thought.

She took a deep breath. Yeah, this was bound to happen; sooner or later, the subject of who -or what- she had really been would be brought up. She already had evaded the subject several times, but right now, there wasn't anything to prompt a misdirection or distraction that would help change the subject. She took a swig before replying.

"Nope, no revenge. Just... Duty." Scarlett avoided any sort of eye contact with him. The subject of her former status as a Slayer either brought awe or pity every time it had been discussed with anyone. She didn't want none of that.

Dean was confused. Or shocked. He didn't really know exactly which. "Wait,  _you_  chose this life? I mean, I get it choosing it  _after_  you were turned, but  _before_?" Why on earth someone, especially a young woman with all her life ahead of hers, would choose to hunt demons, if it wasn't for revenge? Dean was baffled, to say the least.

"I didn't choose it. It chose me." She shrugged, quickly breaking eye contact as soon as it happened.

Dean's mind instantly went to the tale she mentioned the previous day, about how her stepfather taught her how to fight, and to the pictures of her with weapons. "Wait, someone forced you into this life?" He was almost fuming at this point, and soon he started sweating.

"Something like that." She rushed before picking up the vague accusation behind his words. "Watch it. He didn't force me into anything. He was meant to be my mentor, and fate had it that he ended up being more than that. Just as fate, or higher power, or whatever it is, chose this life for me."

Scarlett then explained what a Slayer was, about her powers, the myth, the origins, and everything in between. How they are only girls, how they become weapons for a bunch of glorified librarians at only sixteen. How some, like Scarlett, start training very young; and how their lives usually end in their early twenties, or much younger. How there's no choosing, no chance of saying 'no' because they are The Chosen One -or at least it had been like that until a decade ago or so, when things changed and suddenly there were hundreds and hundreds of Slayers around the world.

Dean didn't know whether to marvel at the system -because honestly, being a human with enhanced strength must really make fights with monsters more fair- or to feel disgusted by it. How could they force a kid to take that massive burden? Then again, he could relate to that, but in his case, there was a personal reason behind it on why he kept doing it.

"What did you want to do? I mean, if you hadn't been chosen." He asked as he took the bottle from her, then took a swig.

She laughed softly before replying. "There's two answers for that. I either wanted to marry a rockstar and live the party-all-night life. Or a scientist, preferably something related to the stars, so an astrophysicist or an astronomer. That was the realistic route I was probably gonna take."

Dean cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Really? You don't look the type."

"Why? Because of how I dress?" She gave him a bitch face.

"No, because you seem hyper-active, and being stuck in a lab is so not you, you're all for the action," he retorted.

His words struck a nerve, and in a way, they bothered her, although she didn't know why exactly. "You don't know me at all, sweetie," she replied smiling, but some of her cynicism spilled nonetheless.

Dean didn't say anything, but he knew he had been right. He could see she was upset or something, so to lighten the mood he told her how he had wanted to be a mechanic, how much he loved cars, especially his beloved Impala, whom he was missing a lot, and worrying about her. And soon after, he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, they woke up with the sound of her phone vibrating, and their hangover was instantly gone the moment Shrevis mentioned how much the witch was asking for.

Dean had his face buried in the pillow, trying to ease the growing headache. "Seriously? Ten fucking thousand dollars? Is that bitch insane?"

Scarlett shrugged. "It's some sort of safety policy, I don't know. But don't worry, we'll get the money. Don't worry about that right now, go back to sleep, try to rest."

No matter how reassuring she sounded, he just couldn't go back to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a lot of money, a whole lot, and trying to get that amount would require much more than hustling pool and drinking shots. It would require stealing, violence and death; and Scarlett wasn't going to let Dean know about that route she needed to take. Sure, she would tell him about the demons that were gonna bit it, but not about the humans. He would never understand it, not even if they had been some of the elite clientele of Wolfram & Hart.

The plan itself was bugging the hell out of her, because she had meant to get that money for her own needs; of course, that had been before Dean had landed in her life, and right now, he needed it more than her. Damn shame, because that was the money that would get her one step closer to the Camaro she wanted so bad.

Dean spent most of the day trying to understand why someone would charge that much for a spell -and complaining nonstop about it- but mostly, he kept cringing at the thought of not getting the cash, or taking too damn long to get it. He needed to go back home to Sammy, he needed to work on a way to revert Metatron's spell and send all the angels back to heaven, and of course he needed to find a way to kill Abaddon. It seemed that everything was working against him, but at least, he wasn't going through this alone.

He had noticed, twice now, how Scarlett would turn into a completely different person come morning. She was all business, never mentioning their late night activities. He didn't know what to think about that; Dean certainly liked to sneak a suggestive joke here and there the morning after sleeping with a girl... But Scarlett? She seemed to not let room for that. Maybe she would laugh if he did; but something told him it would not be wise. So he followed his gut.

The following days all went exactly the same: do nothing during the day -mostly watch TV- bar hopping and hustling at night, with some patrolling on the side. Dean was excited to see new demons and get to gank them; even if his stay was going to be short -he hoped- he wanted to learn about species. And of course most nights would end the same way: with him and Scarlett rolling in between the sheets.

Also, every night, he would learn a little more about her; and without even thinking it, Dean would share something about himself. He had to admit it, everything in this place, everything about the supernatural felt so odd. He had encountered friendly monsters in the past -Lenore, Benny, that purgatory lady Bobby knew, to name a few- but they had only been rare exceptions. But here? Here there were monsters everywhere fighting the good fight, and balancing the scales between good and evil. And it was such a revelation that it made him wonder if this world, this particular world, was better than his.

Dean also noticed that she was acting more cagey than usual; particularly one night while they were having dinner and for some reason she was watching the news instead of some TV show.

_“Marcus Vaughan’s trial ended with a surprising verdict after being found not guilty. Family members of the victims started a riot outside Detroit's Courthouse. In other news-”_

Scarlett switched the channel, and Dean could have sworn he heard her growl, but he wasn’t sure. Although, the dead look she had in her eyes made him change his mind. He tried breaking the ice.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight? More hustling, or we hunt some baddies?” He asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Neither,” Scarlett replied coldly, barely looking at him, “I got stuff to do, and you’re gonna stay put.”

He tried protesting, but she interrupted him.

“I mean it, Dean,” she glared at him as she got up and headed for her bedroom, closing the door with a loud bang.

_What the fuck?_

Something was clearly bothering her, but Dean didn’t feel it was his place to ask her what was wrong.

* * *

Scarlett was beyond pissed; she had worked _so_ hard to get that piece of shit behind bars; leaving breadcrumb after breadcrumb that proved he was the one murdering those kids. Sacrifices, that’s what they had been, rituals of sacrifices. Vaughan had been an elite client of Wolfram  & Hart back in the day, and as far as she knew, the nefarious law company had supposedly gone down after that big apocalyptic battle in Los Angeles, courtesy of Angel, Spike and company.

But she had heard rumors that they were still in business, very low profile, and presumably under a new name. Which would explain how Vaughan was free.

She changed as fast as she could, rage filling her every cell. She was not going to let that scumbag live. She had tried doing the right thing, letting justice do its thing; but as it turned out, justice was broken. Shocker.

Black work boots, black jeans, black t-shirt. Hair neatly done in a bun; she picked a balaclava and stashed it in a backpack, along with other items, like rope, and assorted small weapons.

She stormed out of the room, barely looking at Dean, who checked her out from head to toe.

“Don’t wait up. You can sleep in my bed if you want,” she said before grabbing her keys and heading out.

* * *

_“What?”_ Dean muttered to himself as soon as the door closed. What the hell was going on? If he hadn’t known better, he would have chalked her behavior up to some monthly female thing; but he knew better.

A few hours and a lot of boredom later, he decided to take up on her offer and crash in her bed. Flicking through the channels, he found a _Rocky_ marathon, which was already halfway through; and by the time the last one started, Dean was already asleep.

An hour after sunrise, the sound of the apartment door closing woke him up; instincts kicking in overdrive, he grabbed his gun and peeked outside the bedroom. It was Scarlett, who raised an eyebrow quizzically when she saw his ready stance and his weapon trained at her.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Dean explained sleepily, putting the gun away. He then noticed the sun shining outside. “Cutting a little close, don’t you think?” He thrust his chin towards the window. “Where the hell were you, anyways?”

“I had stuff to do,” she replied as she retrieved a thick roll of bills from her backpack and threw it to him, who caught it effortlessly. “There’s three grand there.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, looking from the money to her and back again. “How did you g-”

“Good ol’ demon on demon violence. No matter what species you are, _everybody_ loves money,” she replied with a faint smile.

“Damn, why didn’t you take me with you? I’m always down to kicking some demon ass!” He certainly could have used some stress relief.

Scarlett shook her head. “Too dangerous. This wasn’t some lone vamp, or some pathetic demon. You would have been a distraction, I had to do this alone; couldn’t step into the lion’s den with a piece of meat most of them would tear up just like this,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis.

“Gotcha,” he offered in return, feeling all warm and fuzzy about her constant concern over his safety.

“Anyways,” she continued, “Just spent an hour making my way back here through the sewers to avoid direct sunlight. I’m tired, dirty, smelly, and in dire need of a relaxing bath, so go back to sleep, Dean.”

He was still sleepy, so he merely nodded and went back to bed while she quickly picked some clean clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

The bathtub was full of bubbles, the music in her ears a welcome distraction. This was the best way to relax after what she’d done. Not that Scarlett felt bad or guilty about it, no; but she needed to quell that leftover adrenaline and bloodlust still rushing through her veins. She had lied to Dean, she didn’t spend the night killing demons, she spent it making Marcus Vaughan pay. Painfully, slowly, the same way he had made those kids suffer. She had staged it in such way that the police would think it was a mugging gone extra violent.

She could still taste his blood in her mouth and it was intoxicating.

* * *

Dean managed only to sleep for another hour, he tossed and turned until the need to piss was too much to bear, the half-hard morning wood not helping matters either. He trudged to the bathroom and, to his dismay, the door was closed and he clearly could hear faint splashes of water.

 _Oh come on!_ He mentally complained. He waited ten minutes, pacing outside the bathroom until he couldn’t take it anymore and softly knocked a couple of times.

“What is it, Dean?”

“Are you gonna be in there long?” His hand was ghosting over the knob.

“Why?” There was a hint of surprise on her tone.

“Err because-”

“Speak up, I can barely hear you; and I have enhanced hearing,” she pressed on.

“Right,” he muttered, “‘cause I need to take a piss.” There, he said it.

“Then go,” she offered blankly.

Her reply caught Dean off guard. “What? That would be awkward,” he said, already halfway inside the small room. Guess his need to take a little peek was higher than his awkward factor.

Scarlett was covered in bubbles, arms resting on the borders of the tub. Her hair was up, head resting on an inflatable pillow, feet resting on the opposite end, calves on full display. It was quite the view; making his dick twitch in clear interest.

“What? Like I haven’t seen it all before,” her smug smile surely making Dean harder by the moment.

“It-it’s different,” he protested, casually hiding his boner. Yeah, no. Showing his dick during sex was one thing. Taking a piss in front of a girl… _Whole_ other beast.

“Oh my, a human having to piss, how unsexy!” Her sarcasm was full of cheekiness. But when she saw him look down in clear self-consciousness, she cut him a break. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll keep my eyes closed, and turn up the volume so I don’t hear a peep. Deal?”

Dean thought about it for several seconds before finally agreeing; he waited until she put her headphones back on and closed her eyes before he got down to business; and of course he couldn’t help taking a couple of glances at her, all relaxed in the bathtub and humming some song he didn’t recognize.

Scarlett waited a couple of minutes before chancing a peek, he was washing his hands and frowning as he looked from the mirror to her and back again.

“Okay, that’s creepy,” he said while pointing at the mirror.

It took her a second to realize he was referring to her lack of reflection.

“It’s one of the downsides of being like us,” she shrugged.

“I see,” he replied before reluctantly leaving. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem.”

And then he was gone, back into bed and hoping he could get some more sleep.

* * *

Scarlett sneaked under the sheets as quietly as possible to avoid waking Dean up; and even though she was exhausted, there was only one thought in her mind: her next target.


End file.
